Always Comes the Dawn
by ArtemysFayr
Summary: AU following the Blight Timeline. Chapter 24 - Artalise learns what happens when the taint is not dealt with, for both humans and for the land.
1. CHAPTER SUMMARIES OF ACTD

_Thanks for deciding to spend some of your precious time reading ACTD...I hope you find it worth it!_

**Update**

04October2010 - made a companion collection that focuses more on Devona and her experiences in the ACTD world called Always Comes the Spring

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_What ACTD is: An AU of the Blight Timeline, simply put. You'll recognize the characters, the places, even some of the goals...but you *will not* recognize the results. A lofty goal, I know...and I hope I'll be able to succeed! *crosses fingers* Basically, by the time this story ends I want to have a completely different...mm...political structure in Ferelden, but to have done so in a way that makes sense. :) As an aside, I will be trying to include all the origins characters in this story as well...just gotta hope they can make it without Duncan rescuing them...And I think thats about it. _

_Oh, as an AU of the Blight timeline, do not read this if you do not want spoilers of DA:O. I also make references to information found in the books by DG and some of the DLC and Awakening (I might include more if I can ever finish it...) So basically, if you don't like spoilers of any kind, please take a step away, absorb yourself in the DA universe, then come back and enjoy the crazy castles I've build in BW's fantastic DA sandbox._

_So, this story is getting kinda long, so I thought I would make it easier for anyone new who comes along and doesn't want to read maker-knows-how-many-words-this-is-by-the-time-you-read-it. __What follows is a chapter summary of ACTD. Thus it is _**CHOCK FULL OF STORY SPOILERS**_. Reader beware! _

_Some of what I wrote, especially Chapters 2-4 are really close to canon, though reading them is still encouraged for character interaction. However, I know there are different strokes for different folks, so feel free to use this page to find the chapters that sound interesting to yourself. Oh, and leaving reviews is always *strongly* encouraged. Feel free to tell me what you don't like about this story. Or what you like about it. Reviews of any kind make me happy. :) And yes, anon reviews are on. _

_If you find the idea of a chapter summary useful, I'd appreciate you letting me know because it will help give me the motivation to ensure I update it regularly with my chapter updates..._

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_Prologue Part 1_

Details how Artalise, or rather Cyrion Tabris her father found out his daughter was a mage. Tears ensue as Darrian and Cyrion watch their beloved sister and daughter leave the Knight Commander Greagoir. Also, Artalise meets Jowan at Denerim Chantry

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_Prologue Part 2:_

Jowan and Artalise arrive at the Tower, meeting Irving for the first time. Artalise realizes she gets to become a Surana (explanation in chapter) and gets her face inked and hears about a new boy named Anders.

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_Prologue Part 3:_

Artalise enjoys some time with Anders (after enduring a nasty potion he made). Anders eventually makes his first escape from Tower, leaving a broken Artalise behind…but leaving an opening for Cullen.

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Chapter 1: Quality Time with Duncan

Artalise has mega shoe trouble and talks with Duncan about why he was in the Tower at the time of her Harrowing. After slicing through a couple Darkspawn he also says something about an elven mage Grey Warden he once knew….

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Chapter 2: Old Friends and New

Artalise and Duncan arrive at Ostagar and reunions with friends (mages) takes place. She meets the two other recruits and has an unfortunate run in with a "failed" templar-recruit who mistakes her for an apostate….

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Chapter 3: Tension, Trust, and Treaties

Artalise et al go after the treaties and vials of blood. Guess who they meet in the Wilds?

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Chapter 4: Ritual and Return

Joining ritual occurs (guess which two recruits die?) and Artalise and Alistair find themselves back at da hut. Too bad the treaties are at Ostagar….

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Chapter 5: On Shapeshifting

Plan to get treaties requires Artalise learning to shapeshift. Consider this chapter a treatise on the art of shapeshifting, at least in the ACTD world.

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Chapter 6: Return to Ostagar

Morrigan and Artalise return to Ostagar…and they get the treaties though they bring more "friends" back to the camp than Alistair had hoped for.

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Chapter 7: Trail to Lothering

Artalise gives Alistair the key to Duncan's chest. The mabari she saved previously shows up. Now there are four.

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Chapter 8: Village of Lothering

Group arrives at Lothering…picks up Leliana and lets Sten out of his cage just in time to deal with a group of soldiers loyal to Loghain. Trip in Lothering is very very short. Thank the Maker!

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Chapter 9: Desperate Times:

The party meets everyone's favorite father and adopted son merchant duo, whom they save from a darkspawn attack. Much gossip ensues and they realize that there is trouble in Redcliffe….

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Chapter 10: Call For:

Group arrives at Redcliffe, and instead of waiting for sunset to fall so they can be attacked, group goes into castle via secret passage to try to stop the attack from taking place. Artalise is surprised to meet Jowan.

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Chapter 11: Desperate Measures

They arrive in Redcliffe Castle proper and realize the nature of the threat facing them. They decide to use blood magic – Jowan teaching Morrigan what he knows. Unfortunately for Jowan, he ends up as the sacrifice.

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Chapter 12: Darkest Desires

Artalise deals with her choice to sacrifice her bestest friend Jowan and then has to come to terms with her secretest of desires. Knowledge.

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Chapter 13: Blood and Flowers

Artalise starts writing with her own blood on the walls (making deals with demons can backfire…) in a strange language that Morrigan dutifully copies down. Teagan gives Alistair some kind advice about how Artalise is pretty and if he doesn't make a move soon, someone else will. Artalise wakes up and is freaked out by her scars and is told by Morrigan what happened. Alistair left her flowers on desk.

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Chapter 14: An Army of Asses

Alistair and Artalise exchange stories of how they were recruited by Duncan on their way to the Circle by boat to get a healer for the unconscious Eamon/get help via treaty. They meet up with Wynne who insists on coming with them. Oak gets left behind to protect children.

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Chapter 15: Broken Circle, Broken Heart

Artalise is shocked to meet up with Anders (who is grieving over the death of Mr. Wiggums) in the Circle prison. She lets him go. When they reach FE Irvings office, Wynne gets her panties all up in a bunch when Artalise searches it for a grimoire Morrigan mentioned might be there. Artalise shuts her down with help from Alistair. Then she meets up with the very same desire demon she convinced to leave Connor…so she lets demon go with possessed templar. Then she comes up with a lie to party members as to how demon knew who she was…and what deal was struck. Ends with Uldred dead in harrowing chamber and a crazed templar running straight at Artalise muttering Chantry verses.

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Chapter 16: Realization

Cullen gets shut down by Leliana and Alistair. Artalise wakes up and meets with both FE Irving and old friend Leorah. Realizes that the script she had written in her own blood was Elvish…

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Chapter 17: Priorities

Leorah and Circle elves present Artalise with book on how to read Elvish (for dummies) and also present her with Archon robes, which Artalise's mentor, Enchanter Iona, had been waiting to wear for the time when she could finally meet the Dalish. Terrance, Circle elf, questions Artalise's decision to go after Urn when there is a blight still happening. Artalise returns to Redcliffe, only to undergo metamorphosis into Morrigan elven servant as the GW party decides to go undercover to Denerim as merchants, and they get to bring along some migrants as well! Artalise realizes how sucky it is to be an elf, but then meets up with Kaitlyn. Yes, that Kaitlyn.

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Chapter 18: Darkspawn and Decisions

Darkspawn attack camp. Artalise tells Kaitlyn and Bevin to go off into woods with Oak protecting them. After making sure rest of migrants A-OK, Artalise goes to find K&B to find them under attack by 2 genlocks. After killing one via fire Oak kills the other. Her disguise as a simple elven servant is now broken, but Bevin thinks her being a mage is, simply put, _awesome._

_

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Chapter 19: Failed Deceptions

Artalise says goodbye to K&B and promises to visit them at some point. Artalise gets drunk and completely misses the blonde tattooed elf totally checking her out. Next day they go to Brother Genitivi's house and realize that going after the Urn might not be as simple as it seems…especially if there is a strange cult involved. And a dragon. Mustn't forget about the dragon.

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Chapter 20: Duty and Loyalty

Artalise and Alistair have a complete falling out over going to the Urn or not. Artalise, Morrigan, Sten, Oak against, Alistair and Leliana for…and Wynne will join their side too. Zevran chats it up with Master Ignacio over the ethics of taking out GWs when there is a Blight going on…

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Chapter 21: Damsels in Distress

Artalise wakes up in a part of town that she doesn't recognize, with a blonde haired elf she doesn't recognize either! Thankfully, Oak is waiting outside for her and leads her back to the Gnawed Noble Tavern, where Artalise has to put up with Morrigan's disapproval. Kaitlyn shows up and takes Artalise to meet her uncle, Alec, who is leader of the Highever resistance movement. Based on what Kaitlyn has told him, he thinks Artalise can help him rescue the Teyrn Cousland's daughter...but she has to inform him that with only 4 members of her party...that isn't going to happen. He does drop the name of Gorim as someone who can help her in regards to Orzammar. Artalise and crew then set out to find said merchant...Sten finds him first and is most upset that he has Sten's helmet. When Artalise tells him that she is a Grey Warden and is looking to go to Orzammar for a treaty, he seems way too excited and mentions something about saving some woman...

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Chapter 22: Gaining Trust

Gorim tells Artalise the tale of Ilda Aeducan and tries to convince her that she should go save her. She is not totally convinced, but basically promises to think about it. Outside of Denerim, a woman runs up and asks for their help. Detecting trouble, they decline...but they realize that something is probably up. So they ambush the ambushers. Now...what to do with Zev?

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Chapter 22A: Two Mistakes

Short chapter from Zev's view on the missing scene from the previous chapter - basically his view of the "interrogation" that the Grey Wardens give him after they ambush him and kill his men...and are deciding what to do with him...

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Chapter 23: The Resue

Zev and Artalise sneak up to the now empty estate of the Arl of Denerim (due to a staged revolt by some of Alec's men). Zev finds and rescues Devona Cousland (whom, he was shocked to see, has had her eyes burnt out), and brings her back the the surface. Artalise calls Sten to help lift her up quickly, and they run to the cart where Alec and Morrigan wait. Alec is upset to see what they have done to Devona...but eventually she pledges her support to the GWs


	2. Prologue:  Part 1

_~~~5 years old~~~_

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"Mama!" , the little elf girl grasped out to her mother, who was now surrounded by four humans, their weapons drawn, and by their slight staggering, drunk as well. She couldn't hear what they said to her, but she saw the sneers on their faces and the fear in her mother's eyes.

"Shush. Quiet Artalise," whispered her father, stretching his hand out to block the girl's attempt to run to her mother.

"Father? Why aren't we helping Mother?" question Darrian, his eyes looking up at his father questioningly. The older brother put a hand on his sister's struggling shoulder, trying to reassure her as well, but he was no less confused as to why they just stood there when their mother plainly needed help. Cyrion sighed. How to explain to his children that his presence would only make violence come faster?

"Your mother is the quickest talker I've ever seen. She'll talk her way out of this, wait and see." He smiled down at his children, but he wasn't able to disguise the worry in his face. The scene was starting to draw the attention of other elves in the area. Hopefully it would reach a resolution soon, before the guards come and undoubtedly arrested his wife for causing a commotion, or whatever lie the men now surrounding her came up with. Presumably the only reason humans ever came into the Alienage was to cause trouble.

One of the men, the obvious leader, smiled lewdly, and wrapped his hand around Artalise's mother body and leaned in to say something to her. Whatever it was caused the instant response of the woman slapping the man across the mouth hard, her eyes ablaze with indignation.

The moment the human put his hand on his wife, Cyrion had started to run towards the group, causing his daughter to fall to the ground, unbalanced by her father's sudden movement.

Her wide eyes looked up and saw only the dagger plunge into her mother's stomach and the deep red blood blossoming across her dress, as the man spewed insults at her. " No! MAMA!" Her eyes looked at the man now staggering away from her mother's collapsing body. That man had hurt her mama!

She howled, the sound filled with despair and anger. _Mama!_ Darrian had left her side and was rushing to join his father beside his mother who struggled to cling to life. Artalise watched the humans turn and run, fleeing back to the safety of the human world, unpursued and once they left they would never have to answer for their crimes. _NO!_

She didn't know where it came from, but suddenly the few elves scattered around her gasped and pulled away from her, as flames appeared and started to lick at her hands. _Hello._ _My name is Artalise Tabris. You killed my mother. Prepare to die._

Suddenly, her back arched and she screeched out in pain, before collapsing to the ground. This would have normally received the attention of most in the square, but today the gasps were directed at the humans who were screaming in pain as they were burned alive by an inferno of flames. So great were the flames that they started licking the wood roofs of a nearby building, and soon were devouring it. All attention was for the moment taken away from the unconscious girl as the elves in the Alienage sought to douse the flames before they spread further.

"Darrian, grab your sister. Let's get her back to the house, " Cyrion said softly to his son, as he himself gently lifted the now lifeless body of his beloved and carried her to back to their house, to prepare for her Final Rites.

Darrian was hesitant at first to touch his younger sibling, the image of flames dancing around her hands still emblazed in his memory. But she had killed them. She had killed the bastards that had killed their mother. While he feared her now, he also felt a flicker of pride.

"Come along now, Arty. Time to go home now" At first he tried to pick her up, but he realized that he wasn't strong enough to carry her that way. He leaned down and lightly patted the side of her face. "Arty? Are you awake? Can you hear me?"

Her eyes remained closed but she moved ever so slightly and coughed. He took that for a yes, "Arty, I need you to wrap your hands around my neck. Come on, Arty. We need to get home." He knelt down to make it easier for her. She merely whimpered. Darrian pursed his lips, before grabbing one of her arms and draping it around his neck. "Just hold on, OK? Arty, OK?" He inquired, wanting a response. The only sound that came out of her mouth was another whimper, but he felt her arm stiffen a little, as if she was trying to hold on. It would have to do.

He stood up tentatively, doing his best to both maintain his balance and ensure his sister stayed on his back. He leaned forward as far as he could to make it easier to her to stay on his back before walking briskly back to the shanty they called home.

_I love you, Arty._

_

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~~~V~V~V~~~

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The sky was dark by the time she opened her eyes again. She groaned and rubbed her eyes. Down below she heard her father and a voice she didn't recognize arguing. Suddenly she grimaced as she became aware of an unpleasant taste in her mouth. What had her father given her? She looked over to the other side of her ratty mattress and saw a small vial. Grabbing it, she held it to the window, marveling at the delicate blue color of its contents in the moonlight. She'd never seen a blue liquid before. _Its tastes nasty!_ She set it down and moved to the door, anxious to hear what was being said below. Much to her surprise, the door opened slowly and she saw Darrian look inside, his eyes widening when he saw she was awake and staring right at him.

He held his finger up to his mouth, willing her to be quiet as he quietly opened the door further and slipped into the room.

"They've come to take you away Arty" He whispered to her urgently.

She was shocked by this statement. The guards have come? She didn't want to go to prison! "Who?" She whispered back, tears of worry starting to well in her eyes.

"I think he said he was a Templar."

"A Temp-what?"

"Templar, Arty. They are from the Chantry. They…they guard mages."

She crinkled her nose, not understanding, "So why is he here? Is it about mama?"

He sighed, "In a way, Arty." He paused before continuing, "Don't you remember what happened in the square?"

Her brow wrinkled as she thought back. The men around mama, the dagger, then the blood and then…nothing.

"Mama died."

"Yes, but after mother died. What happened to the humans, Arty?" He pressed on, looking at her intently.

She shook her head, sad that she was disappointing her brother.

Darrian sighed again, and looked down at the floor as if thinking about what to say next, before looking back up at her, "You used magic, Arty. You're a _mage_."

Artalise blinked, and stared at her brother, not fully understanding what he was talking about. _Magic? Mage?_

It looked like Darrian was going to continue, but he was interrupted by their father's voice, "Darrian? Is your sister awake yet?" Darrian's eyes widened in surprise and he scampered out the door, "Ye-yes Father! She just woke up"

"Can she walk?"

Darrian looked at Artalise, wanting her to answer the question for him. She nodded numbly. "Yes Father!"

"Good. Can you bring her down here, lad?"

"Yes, Father."

Darrian moved to his sister and wrapped his arm around her, not to help her walk, necessarily, but to give her some comfort. Besides, he gulped, who knows when he would see her again, if ever?

Artalise slowly climbed down the ladder, and turned around to face her father and the stranger, but her eyes were instantly drawn to the largest and shiniest man she had ever seen. She gasped and instantly fled to her father, hiding behind his legs while watching the shiny man with wide eyes.

The man looked right back at her, his own eyes stern and cold, "This is the girl, then?"

Her father nodded, before patting Artalise on the back, and smiled at her, but his eyes were full of remorse, "Artalise, this is Ser Greagoir. Say hello. "

Artalise bowed her head a little bit, "Good evening… s-ser", but she still kept her hands clamped on her father's leg. The shiny man scared her.

The men exchanged a look, and her father nodded in silent understanding before kneeling down beside her and placing his hands on her shoulders and looked straight into her eyes, "Artalise, this man is going to take you away to a much better place than this Alienage. You know that slice of cake you get on your birthday?" She nodded, tears starting to well up in her eyes again. With a gentle hand, he brushed the tears aside, "Now now…no need to cry, child. Where you are going, you'll be able to have cakes and cookies everyday and sleep in a proper bed, and read books to your heart's content. Haven't you always said how much you wanted to learn to read? They have hundreds of book in this place, all for you. Wouldn't you like to go there?"

Artalise whimpered and grabbed a hold of her father in a tight hug, "No daddy! I want to stay here!"

Cyrion shushed her, and gingerly unwrapped her arms, brushing her cheeks again to wipe away her tears, "Arty, you will always have a place here, but now you need to leave, ok?" He dug around in his pocket before pulling out a piece of candy, the type that he knew she loved so much, "Here, look at this? Isn't this your favorite type of candy? Now if you are a strong girl and go with Ser Greagoir, you'll get this piece of candy. Now what do you say, my girl?"

Artalise sniffled but after eyeing the candy for a few moments, nodded her head. Cyrion smiled, "Now that's my strong girl!" he handed the piece of candy over to her, before pushing her gently towards the Templar, smiling, but his entire face etched with sadness.

She looked back at her father once more, her bottom lip trembling from her attempt to hold back her tears, and took a few small steps towards the shiniest man she's ever seen. A shiny hand moved and directed her towards the door, which she opened with a shuddered breath.

She took one final look back at her father, who had his hand on the shoulder of Darrian. Her brother wiped away a tear but said nothing. Cyrion wave to her, and that was the last thing she saw before the shiny man shut the door.

"Follow me, Artalise." He turned and set out towards the gates of the Alienage at a pace that made the young elf jog in order to keep up with him.

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~~~V~V~V~~~

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Artalise was having a hard time keeping her jaws closed, so in awe was she of the building she found herself in. She had never left the Alienage in her life, but she'd heard stories about the buildings the humans had built just outside the only world she had ever known. This was apparently the "Chantry" and, at this time of night, there were only a few Sisters milling around. Ser Greagoir paused and looked around as if trying to spot one in particular. He seemed to spot her, "Sister Irena!"

A Sister, her head crowned with white hair walked over to the Templar, her hands clasped together. She got within 10 feet before noticing the small elf child behind him. She twisted her head around to get a better look at the obviously frightened girl before turning to face the Templar again, "Found another one, have we?"

He nodded gruffly, "I was tipped off by the Captain of the Guard earlier today that there had been an…incident in the Alienage. Thankfully the men she killed were nameless vagrants, otherwise she'd probably have been locked up by now. Or worse."

"Killed, Ser Greagoir?

"Fireball. Killed the men who apparently killed her mother"

"Oh Maker."

He nodded, "If you could put her in the room with the other one, I'll be back around dawn to take them down to Tower." When the Sister nodded, he turned and left, not noticing how Artalise's eyes followed him sadly. The only person she knew, even if it had been only for an hour, had left her. She was totally alone.

The elderly Sister smiled kindly at her, bending down and extending a worn old hand, "Come, my child. I have a friend I'd like you to meet"

Her eyes wide with fear, Artalise tentatively put her hand in the Sister's, and she was slowly led to a small room down a hallway.

The door opened to a small room with a couple of beds, one of them which supported a waking little boy. He rubbed his eyes at the sudden appearance of light, and asked, his voice heavy in sleep, "Is it morning yet?"

The Sister took a torch from the outside, and placed it in the holder near the door before lightly tapping the elf's back toward an empty bed, "No, Jowan, I've brought you a friend. She'll accompany you on your trip tomorrow"

His face immediately brightened up, and he sat up, "Really? I thought I was going to be all alone with Ser Greagoir and he scares me."

Artalise climbed up into the bed, and the sister moved to help tuck her in, "Ser Greagoir is a good man, Jowan. He will bring you no harm, so there is no need to fear him." She sighed as she stood back up after she finished, "Now you two children go to sleep right away. You have a long journey ahead of you tomorrow and will need all the sleep you can get."

"Yes Sister Irena" Jowan intoned as the sister shut the door behind her. There was silence for a few moments before Artalise heard a whisper, "My name's Jowan. What's yours?"

"Artalise."

"I'm glad you're here."

He chattered on for a few more minutes but when he realized that she wasn't going to respond he turned over to face the opposite wall and she soon heard the soft noise of him falling into deeper sleep.

Artalise, however, didn't sleep at all that night.

_Brother! Father! **Mama!**_

_**

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**Note 1: Oh yes. I really did it. Shout out to "The Princess Bride"! Gotta have some fun with these fanfics, after all. :)_


	3. Prologue:  Part 2

~~~V~V~V~~~

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The trip to the Circle took nearly three weeks, though Artalise hardly paid attention to the passage of time. Jowan and herself rode in a mule-pulled cart the whole way, their small party led by Ser Greagoir and a small contingent of other shiny men and woman. The elf took the time to take in the world around her. Never in her life had she seen so much open land and green life, and her eyes eagerly soaked in the whole of it. Little could she have known that it would be many, many years before she would be in the open air again.

The two newly-found mages formed a fast friendship, eagerly playing games with each other as the miles went on. At first their favorite was "I spy", but as civilization receded and forests took over, they started to play other games. She was able to share her favorite ones from the Alienage, and he shared with her the ones that human children played. Remarkably, some were nearly identical except for their name. The Templars for large part let the children be, though every once in a while one would join in as they put aside their natural suspicion of mages and saw the two for what they were – children. During other times, Greagoir would shush the children, particularly if they squealed loudly in laughter.

Both children were silent, however, when they left the forest and their cart rolled quietly down the slope to the docks of Lake Calenhad, mesmerized by the appearance of the tall grey structure that was the Tower that appeared to rise out of the lake itself.

Ser Wilchore, a Templar who had been the most frequent participant in their games looked down at the two of them with a smile and extended his hand in the direction of the Tower, "Welcome to your new home, children."

"It looks like a castle! Does a king live there?" Jowan exclaimed his eyes wide with wonder.

Ser Wilchore chuckled, "I doubt one could consider First Enchanter Irving a 'King' per se, but he will be in charge of the Tower, yes"

"First Enchanter Irving" repeated Artalise, exaggerating her pronunciation as if getting use to a foreign word.

It looked like Ser Wilchore was going to continue, but he stopped when he saw Ser Greagoir's raised hand as they stopped by the water's edge. Greagoir turned around to face his small group, "Ser Wilchore and I will take the children across. The rest of you may have some reprieve at the Spoiled Princess."

There was happy chattering going among the Templars as they walked over to the local tavern. Ser Wilchore walked around to the back of the cart, helping both the children down off the cart and walked them over to the dock, while Ser Greagoir talked with the boatman standing at the end of it next to a small rowboat.

Jowan wasn't bothered at all by the situation, in fact he was rather excited after seeing the boat, telling Artalise that his father had often taken him fishing in a rowboat just like the one by the dock, and how much he loved it. Artalise had never seen so much water in her life, and more than that, she'd never seen a boat before either.

Ser Wilchore noticed that something wasn't sitting well with the girl when he found himself having to tug on her arm to get her to walk across the wood planks of the dock. She looked terrified.

"Jowan, go up to Greagoir and get on the boat. We'll be there in a moment." He released the boy's hand, who eagerly ran down the wood and lowered himself into the boat, happily starting a conversation with the boatman. Ser Greagoir meanwhile looked back at the Templar and young elf with scarcely veiled impatience.

The Templar beside her knelt down and took her hands in his, and his eyes watching hers, "What is it Artalise?"

Artalise paused a moment before answering, lowering a shaky finger down to point at the dock below, "W-we are w-walking on w-water…."

Ser Wilchore looked down with a puzzled look, before coming to an understanding and laughing, "Oh! I suppose your kind don't have a chance to be on the water much, hmm? Look, it's perfectly safe" He got up for a moment and stomped down hard on the dock, making his armor sing a little, but not harming the wood at all. He extended his hand down to her with another smile, "Come along then. You can trust me, this is safe. No harm will come to you."

They walked slowly down to the end of the dock, but when the time came for Artalise to get into the boat, she stopped again. All she could see was the bobbing motion of it, and she knew she didn't want to get into it. The dock was solid, not moving and she felt safe there. Ser Greagoir let out an exasperated sigh.

"Artalise! Come on in! I love boats- just wait until we get moving and you put your hand in the water to watch the waves- it's so much fun!" Jowan chattered eagerly as he sat down on the bench in the rowboat. Artalise gulped and took a small step towards the edge of the dock before refusing to take another step again.

Ser Wilchore chuckled and stepped into the boat, spreading his hands wide, "See? I'm standing in the boat and all is well! Come along now, my little girl"

She still refused to move, her body even trembling a little at the thought of it. With another sigh, Ser Greagoir reached down and lifted the girl up, causing her to let out a little screech of surprise, and handed her over to Ser Wilchore's outstretched hands. He then lowered the girl gently on the bench besides Jowan, who had scooted to the edge of the boat and then sat on the other side of her. Her small hands gripped his armor hard enough to make the whites of her knuckles show.

Her fear lasted for no longer than the first few strokes of the oar before her natural curiosity took over, eventually crawling into the lap of Ser Wilchore to gaze into the murky depths of the lake, and even getting the courage up to stick her hand into the cool water, giggling as she watched the little waves her hand caused.

While the trip across the lake intrigued her, both Jowan and herself let out gasps of delight when they realized that they were going to be entering a cave at the base of the Tower. The dark, damp coolness of the cave was a welcomed relief from the hot sun of midday, especially for the two men in armor and the children pointed out to each other lizards and other creatures that they saw scuttling across the rock.

The mouth of the cave receded behind them, yet instead of the cave getting darker, it actually got lighter, and the source of the light was soon seen. As the dock came into sight, standing at the shoreline was a man, his brown hair and beard streaked with grey. He held in his hand a staff, the end of which was glowing brightly. While not a word was said between them in the boat or the man on the shore, Artalise could feel the bearded man's eyes on both her and Jowan.

It wasn't until Ser Greagoir led them down the dock after departing the boat that words were first exchanged, "It's good to have you back Knight-Commander Greagoir. The Templars have missed you dearly," said the man with the glowing staff, a smile now on his face.

"But not the mages, I take it, Irving " and for the first time Artalise saw a small smile break the shiny man's mouth.

Irving chuckled, "Perhaps one or two amongst the Loyalists. But for the large part, no. I hope you aren't offended." he then shifted his gaze to the two children who stood staring at the him, or more accurately, at his glowing staff in abject amazement, "And I take it you got more than you bargained for when you went to Denerim, hmm? Not only did I get a month's pause in your constant requests for me to get my mages in line, but you brought me two young ones as well? You are too kind."

The Knight-Commander snorted before bowing his head in the First Enchanter's direction, "The pleasure was all mine. Now, if you excuse me, I must see to my Templars and deal with their, I'm sure _numerous_ complaints regarding your mages." At Irving's nod, Ser Wilchore and Ser Greagoir walked towards the door that led to the rest of the Tower, leaving the two children alone with a stranger. This time however, Artalise was not frightened. She liked this robed man.

Irving knelt down besides the two children, looking at both of them in turn. "Greeting my children. As you may have already guessed, I am First Enchanter Irving. May I have the pleasure of knowing both of your names?"

"My name's Jowan Yanorn"

"Mine is Artalise Tabris"

Irving nodded and straightened up, before turning towards the door, "A pleasure. However, from here on forth, we go by first names only. Once you have been assigned an enchanter, you will take on their last name, but then that is only used in the most formal of settings," He sighed as if remembering some long gone memory, "Such is the way of the Circle. Now, if you will follow me, I will introduce you to your new home. Your new family."

* * *

_~~~3 years later: 8 years old~~~_

* * *

Artalise bit her lip as she concentrated fiercely on the thread of wool that slipped through her fingers, ensuring it was as smooth and consistent as possible, her foot taping the pedal rhythmically. She heard Jowan, who was sitting at the spinning wheel beside hers mutter a curse under his breath before sighing, "You know, when I imagined being taught how to use magic at the Circle, I thought of fireballs and swirling smoke. Not spinning wheels."

Artalise grinned but took a moment before responding, "'But how can apprentices learn to control the flow of power from the Fade if they can't first learn to control the flow of wool in a spinning wheel?'" she quoted in a singsong voice, imitating the tone of Enchanter Rebca well enough to cause Jowan to giggle.

The room they were in hummed with the sound of spinning wheels and the soft sound of wool being spun, besides, of course, for the chatter going on in the group of 30 or so apprentices. The noise had been getting worse recently, as more and more of them were nearing the age when they would be chosen by an Enchanter and move on to the second part of their training. The past three years had been spent by Artalise first learning to read, then having her nose constantly in a book as she attempted to learn the theory and history of magic. During this whole time, the apprentices cast not a single spell, instead spending their hours being lectured or being involved in exercises that they were told would aid them when the time came from them to pull power from the Fade. They spent at least an hour a day spinning wool, leading some of them to speculate what the Circle does with all the wool. The best answer they'd come up with yet is that the Circle sells it to a merchant who can make a handsome profit by selling mystical wool spun from the very hands of mages. The Chantry may hold power over people, but few could resist the appeal of owning magical wool, surely?

"I've heard that a Surana Enchantership just opened up. Enchanter Iona's apprentice just went through the Harrowing, and now she is seeking a new one." An apprentice called Petra whispered to her friend Jana. They were seated right next to Artalise and Jowan, so the elf couldn't help but overhear.

Jana squealed though settled down quickly in order to ensure she didn't make any mistakes in her thread, "Really? I so want to be either a Surana or an Amell!"

Petra snorted, "Don't we all?"

It was a moment before Jana said anything more, as if she had just remembered something and was mulling it over, "Wait, Enchanter Iona's apprentice was…was Larken, wasn't it?"

There was no response, but Artalise assumed that Petra had nodded, "Didn't he spend some of his nights crying?" Jana asked tentatively.

"Mmm."

"Oh."

It was a couple of days later and their lesson with Enchanter Wynne about the creation school had just finished when Enchanter Rebca, who had been watching the apprentices sharply from her desk to ensure they all behaved, called out to their retreating backs, "Apprentice Artalise? May I see you for a moment?"

Artalise felt a lot of eyes suddenly turn on her, and blushed, partly due to embarrassment, but partly also due to excitement. She was going to get a last name- she was finally going to learn how to use magic!

She turned to Jowan, who was suddenly looking more downcast than ususal, "I'll be back soon, OK? We have a game to finish, " she smiled before turning and walked over to the Enchanter, who was now standing beside her desk.

"If you will follow me, please, Apprentice" Enchanter Rebca said coolly, leading the young elf towards the practice rooms. The rooms where Apprentices met with the Enchanters.

Not a word was said, and Enchanter Rebca opened the door to the last room in the far corner of the room. She bowed her head in greeting to the person inside the room. Artalise's excitement faded away as she realized whose room Enchanter Rebca had opened.

Enchanter Rebca cleared her throat and motioned Artalise into the room, shutting the door quietly behind her. Artalise kept her eyes lowered in deference, but she could feel the woman's eyes looking her over critically.

"Look at me, child"

Artalise looked up and for the first time studied the woman's face in front of her. She too was elvish, the tattoo on her face emphasizing the sharpness of her cheeks. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a sharp neat bun and her violet eyes were cool and calculating. Enchanter Iona Surana.

No words were said as teacher and apprentice looked at each other for a few moments before the Enchanter broke the silence.

"I want you in this room after breakfast is served tomorrow. Do not be late. We have much to cover" And with that she motioned for Artalise to leave.

_I'm a Surana now…"_ She thought to herself as she quickly left the room to back to the apprentice quarters, _Artalise Surana_.

* * *

_~~~5 years later: 13 years old~~~_

* * *

"I still don't understand why you want to have your face tattooed." Jowan sighed in the chair beside her. The two of them were located in the library, going over some Circle history. It had taken Jowan nearly an extra year to be picked up by an Enchanter and it was a point of embarrassment for him. Artalise did her best to ensure he wouldn't fall behind again, and so the two often spent many hours in the library as she tried to explain concepts to him.

Artalise smiled as she closed her book, "But of course you wouldn't, _human"_ She exaggerated the last word in jest.

He continued on, "I mean, the whole thing with the Circle is that we are suppose to be like one huge family, right? There shouldn't be differences between us, between humans and elves…"

"What is wrong for us to learn more about our elven history, our elven culture? I have to know all about the Ferelden human history. Why can't I learn about the elven history too?"

"Yeeeees….but…" He leaned in and whispered, not bothering to hide his concern, "Isn't the val-si-whatever, doesn't it represent an elven god? How can the Templars allow something that _blasphemous_?" His eyes widened as a sudden thought came to him, "Wait, do the Templars even _know?_"

Artalise let out a snort and rolled her eyes, "You ninny. You think they wouldn't start asking questions when young elves suddenly started showing up in the mornings with new tattoos on their face? They asked questions and First Enchanter Irving assured them that it has nothing to do with religious inclinations- we do it to express our love for elven culture and yes, we are all good followers of Andraste. Besides," She grinned, "The designs we use would probably be unrecognizable to a Dalish elf. None of the history books contained any designs of what the Dalish would wear…so some elf mage sort of…made them up," she giggled.

"It doesn't mean anything, and you still want one?" his tone implying that he really didn't understand her thinking. "Won't it _hurt_?"

"Pain is part of the ritual," she shrugged, unconcerned. At that moment she noticed the young elf Eadric enter the library, and looking around as if trying to look for someone,. She put her book down and got up from her seat, "Jowan, study hard! I'll see you later tonight, or maybe tomorrow, OK?"

She briskly walked over to Eadric who smiled when he saw her and lead her out of the room to where the ceremony was going to take place. While the Templars didn't openly seek these ceremonies out to disrupt them, neither did they totally approve of what they did and so the Elves of the Tower often met in different rooms each week, depending on the suggestion of First Enchanter Irving. Sometimes they just gathered to talk, usually the older Elves telling the younger ones stories they've heard about Elvhenan , but every once in a while a young elf would come of age, and the vallaslin, or blood-writing ceremony would take place. Everybody relished such meetings.

"Who did you choose, Apprentice Artalise?" Eadric whispered to her as they walked towards an empty part of the Tower.

Artalise smiled at the elf who was a few years younger than herself, "Elgar-nan"

His eyes widened, "The god of vengeance?"

She nodded her head, thinking back to her previous conversation with Jowan. Of course she couldn't have told him the truth – he was a known gossiper and the Circle elves held their secrets close. Over many years, the elves of the Circle were slowly able to figure out the basic designs of each of the nine gods of the Elvish Pantheon. While their designs were poor compared to the intricacies and meaning of the Dalish tattoos, any of their forest dwelling brethren would be able to see their tattoo and know the god it invoked.

Eadric rapped on the door they soon arrived at, his rhythm too precise to be random, and she heard a lock slide and the door open.

Enchanter Iona smiled, a rare event and it actually surprised Artalise, "Thank you Eadric. And welcome Artalise."

She beckoned the elves to enter before shutting and locking the door behind them.

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

The next day found Jowan and Artalise walking back to their quarters to pick up their study materials before heading over to the practice rooms to meet with their instructors. All morning, Artalise had been gingerly touching the new tattoo she bore and wincing. When Jowan had spoke or asked her questions, she had done her best to either grunt an answer or shake her head. Talking hurt.

"I still don't understand why you don't get a potion or something to take the pain away." Jowan mentioned casually, shaking his head.

Artalise sighed and geared herself up for the pain of answering, "Pain is part of the ceremony. Using a potion would be cheating."

Jowan guffawed, "Why? What are they going to do, take away your tattoo?" He rolled his eyes, "How barbaric." Artalise snorted and shook her head, but said nothing.

There was a slight flurry of activity going on in the quarters and Artalise looked at Jowan curiously. He snapped his fingers and grinned, "Oh yes! I almost forgot. Last night they brought in a new found mage. The thing is, he's our age. A lot of mages don't understand why he wasn't…ah…eliminated by the Templars when they found him. They think its too late to teach him, you know?"

Artalise nodded, grimicing slightly as a new wave of pain blossomed over her face, "What's his name?"

Jowan rubbed his chin, trying to remember, "Andrew? No…Adrian? Not that either…Oh!" He beamed, "Anders!"


	4. Prologue:  Part 3

_Note: This chapter probably deserves the M rating for "suggestive adult themes" (Why is violence OK but slight suggestions to a little pleasure warranting an 'M'? Make love, not war, people!) "Suggestive themes" are *not* going to be a staple in this story, which is why I put it as a "T" rated stor_y. _Consider yourself warned. If you think I should put this as M, let me know...still rather new to the ratings thing..._

* * *

_~~~2 year later: 15 years old~~~_

_

* * *

_

The stench from the concoction she held in her hand wafted up to her, and she thought she could practically see the rotten scent twirling in the air in front of her.

"Maker's breath, Anders! What did you put in this thing?" Artalise gagged, and held the chalice as far from her face as she could, fanning her other hand in front of her nose, trying to dissipate the smell.

"Trade secret, I'm afraid. But enough stalling. Jowan lost, so now _you _have to drink up!" Anders crossed his arms and looked at her expectantly. The other apprentices in the room voiced in as well, all eagerly awaiting watching her face when she had to drink the vile liquid.

The enchanters had left their apprentices for the evening, apparently all drawn away to some meeting with the First Enchanter. Usually there was one or two nearby, or at least a decent threat of them roaming nearby. All the apprentices relished these meeting times, as it allowed them to practice freely, without the tight leash of an enchanter peering over their shoulder. True, there was a Templar stationed right outside the door, but they rarely intervened in something as trivial as a game of Rat Race, which basically consisted of an apprentice guiding a ball, through, around, over and under various obstacles. It was a great control exercise, which is why enchanters often had their apprentices run through it. The only difference was that the loser usually lost nothing but his pride when under watch of his or her enchanter. Amongst their fellow apprentices, sometimes the punishment rivaled on the unholy.

Jowan, who had been losing most of the matches he had found himself in previously was desperate to improve his standing among the other apprentices. But no one would compete against him, viewing him as not worth the bother. Until, that is, he had appealed to Artalise, asking her to put herself on the line in hopes that someone would be willing to go up against him. Especially if that meant they got a chance to get "Smarty Arty" to drink their concoctions, as nearly every time they ended up drinking hers.

Artalise threw an exasperated look towards Jowan's direction, "I thought you said you had practiced for hours, for days!" she stated accusingly, "I thought I could trust you!"

Jowan stared at his hands, looking like he was willing for the floor to swallow him up, "I did Arty…I think I was just…nervous. Stage-fright, you know?" he ended with a rather nervous laugh.

"_Stop stalling_. Do drink up my dear Artalise!" Anders' voice practically cackled with glee.

She looked up at the ceiling, as if she was saying a silent prayer, then brought the cup to her mouth and quickly drank the liquid down. As soon as she had drank it all, she threw the cup to the ground and immediately ran towards the washroom, and all but Jowan laughed as the sound of retching that came from the room.

The next contest commenced, and Anders watched for a few minutes, before excusing himself from the revelries under the auspice of ensuring his potion hadn't killed Artalise.

He opened the door and peered inside, noting the elf bent over, her hands on her knees. With the sound of the door opening she straightened herself up, and realizing it was Anders, she crossed her arms and looked at him accusingly.

"_Andraste's wart!_ What did you put it that?"

"Oh, this and that. It's entirely natural I assure you." He grinned as he closed the distance between them, "How do you feel?"

"That's what I don't get. The smell was _atrocious_, but the aftertaste actually wasn't that bad. And, " she smiled slyly, "I now feel like my veins, _amongst other things_ are afire. For some odd reason I don't think that was accidental." She arched her eyebrow while she took a step back and leaned against the cool stone wall, watching the other mage-apprentice approach with eager eyes.

Anders grinned and said nothing as he pressed his body against hers, and had his tongue penetrate her lips. She let out a little moan, then reached down and grabbed his robes, and started hiking them up. He pulled away for a moment, smiling slightly and whispered in her ear, "You know, if more mundanes knew about the advantages of wearing robes, I think all of Ferelden would soon be looking like mages"

She let out a throaty laugh before drawing him close again.

* * *

_~~~3 years later: 18 years old~~~_

_

* * *

_

"Congratulations _Mage_ Anders." He stopped walking and grinned, recognizing that voice anywhere. He turned around to face Artalise.

"If it's not my favorite apprentice!" He closed the distance between them so there was scarcely a foot between them before leaning down and whispering, "I asked Wynne about when she thought your Harrowing was going to be. She hinted that you'd be called up to the chamber in a couple of months."

Artalise's eyes lit up and she looked like she wanted to hug him, but wisely rethought and clasped her hands together instead, "Really?"

He nodded his head, before directing her to the nearby door by the library. "Shall we?", Artalise nodded, and together they passed by the Templar standing guard and into the library.

"Congratulations on passing your Harrowing, mage Anders"

The two mages stopped, surprised at the originator of the congratulations. They turned and looked at the Templar by the door. It took a moment for Artalise to remember his name, "Oh! How nice of you to say so, Ser Cullen"

Anders raised an eyebrow, "And how unexpected. Here, I thought all Templars would much rather run every mage through." His tone was light enough, but he made no attempt to hide his distaste for the Tower protectors.

"N-no ser." Cullen glanced nervously over at Anders, obviously unsure of how to answer.

Artalise pursed her lips and jabbed Anders lightly in the stomach, "What he meant to say is that he _appreciates_ the kind words." She then bowed her head in the Templar's direction, "Have a good day, ser. And may I just add I hope no apprentices summon any more Fade Rabbits for you to have to catch" She smiled her goodbye, marveling at how red the Templar's cheeks blushed, before walking with Anders into the library, finding a remote table in the far corner to sit at.

"That was rather unlike you. You almost sounded upset." she commented as she sat down, opening up one of the books on the table and scanning it. When she realized she was reading "Rodercom's Uncommon Calling" she dropped it and picked up "Tome of Spirit Personages." instead, thumbing lazily through the pages. Her eyes weren't on the pages though, but on Anders, who was rubbing his chin in thought.

"Well, now I am _officially_ a mage of the Circle. Officially I am now one of the Chantry's prized cattle that they keep locked up"

Artalise snorted, "I think 'prized' is the hardly the correct word."

Anders smiled and nodded his head, "True. More like 'diseased', I suppose. They have to protect the mundanes, after all, from the plague that runs through our veins"

She flipped a page lazily, contemplating her question, "Not happy with being a mage?"

"Anything but! I can't imagine being anything _but_ a mage. Can you imagine trying to light a fire with anything else but a fireball? Or not being able to cool a drink with just a wave of your hand." He shuddered.

"Then it's the Circle itself that you don't like?"

He started to rub his chin again, "No, I _like_ the Circle too – being around other mages is fascinating. It's something you don't really learn to appreciate until you've been surrounded by ignorant mundanes. Its just-" he paused again, "I get tired of having a Templar breathing down my neck, just _waiting _to run me through the minute I threaten to turn into an Abomination."

She raised an eyebrow, and nodded to herself, letting a few moments pass before she closed her book and leaned over the table, smiling softly, "Well, as fascinating as the library is, I can think of a better way to celebrate your passing of the Harrowing."

Anders had a hard time stifling his laugh, "I like the way you think – but," he in turned leaned over the table towards her, bringing his hand to his mouth as if to prevent any others from hearing, "Mage-apprentice….liaisons are rather_ frowned_ upon, you know?"

She shrugged, her lips parting slightly as she grinned, "When has being frowned upon ever stopped you before?"

He nodded, conceding her point. He then got up from the table, and made a gallant gesture of taking her hand as if to help her get up from the chair. She snorted and shook her head, smiling, and together they left the library.

When they exited the room, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her. Turning her head around, she saw the Templar, Cullen, looking in their direction. When their eyes met, his widened and he instantly turned his head to stare straight ahead of him, gulping a little.

She smiled, tucking a stray strand of hair back behind her ear, then turned around, and continued walking with Anders, curious as to where his near sixth sense for empty rooms would lead them this time.

* * *

_ ~~2 months later~~_

_

* * *

_

"_What do you mean, he escaped?" _She asked Jowan angrily. For some odd reason he always was the better informed of the two. She could weave a spell ten times better than he, but Maker knew, he always heard the juicy Tower gossip first.

He looked around nervously, "He was found missing this morning. The, ahh, mage librarian started asking questions when he didn't show up at his usual time."

Artalise brought her hand up to her head and started rubbing her temples. Anders had escaped. Numerous attempts to escape the Tower occurred every year were made by an antsy mage or apprentice, but they usually always ended with the escapee being caught in the act or found dead.

"There was no body found?"

"No. Not…yet…at least..."

She looked up at the ceiling, trying to collect her thoughts. She failed miserably. Sighing, she ran hand through her hair, "Well, I suppose if anyone could escape the Tower, it would be Anders." She pursed her lips before shaking her head, "I need to go, Jowan; I'm almost late for meeting Enchanter Dayna for my lesson." She waved to her long-time friend, and turned to start to head over to the practice room Dayna always reserved for them during the mornings. So clouded was her mind with thoughts that it took a few moments before she realized that someone was saying her name. With a start she broke out of her reverie and saw Wynne, Ander's old teacher in front of her.

"Artalise, are you alright?" she inquired, the concern in her voice very real,

"Oh, Enchanter Wynne, I apologize! Enchanter Iona said she was going to test me today on my knowledge of the entropy school; I was just reviewing some key concepts" The lie came out easily enough, but she could tell by Wynne's face that the senior enchanter was not fooled.

"Well, I won't keep you long, then. However, I do have a question, " she paused, as if trying to figure out how to proceed with her question, "I know that you and Mage Anders were….close…."

Artalise smiled a little. It was difficult to keep any relationship within the Circle secret. While nearly all mages weren't bothered in the slightest (there's always was of course at least one prude), immense care was taken to shield such knowledge from the Templars as severe punishments were usually levied on the two transgressors of Circle, _of Chantry_ rules. "You mean to ask if I had any idea that he was planning on escaping? Or maybe if I _helped_ him?"

Wynne looked slightly surprised, but recovered quickly, "I was only curious about the former, actually. Truthfully, I hadn't even thought about the possibility of the latter...It's a good question though" She arched an eyebrow, but the elf could see that the woman was saying the second part, at least, in good humor.

"All I know, Enchanter Wynne, is that he wasn't happy with life in the Circle. I had…no indication that he was planning to escape." She grinned at the Senior Enchanter, "Though I confess I am a bit curious as to _how_."

Wynne laughed and waved Artalise on, "As are we all. Hurry now, Don't want to be late for your test." She smiled in departure and let Artalise to continue on her way.

While it was true that Artalise was curious as to how he managed his escape, that wasn't the only emotion that she was feeling, it showed. Enchanter Iona commented on how distracted Artalise seemed, and even stopped the lesson early so the elf could go see the healer for a potion, as Enchanter Iona was convinced that Artalise was feeling ill.

She spent the rest of the day in the library, taking out whole stacks of books and pretending to read them, but truthfully she scarcely saw a word. _How could he leave without telling me?_

Evening came quicker than she thought, only coming back to reality when she heard the polite cough of the mage librarian behind her. She started, then looked around and noticed that she was alone in the library. Her cheeks flushed a little bit as the librarian gathered up the scattered books on the table, and Artalise scurried quickly out of the room, running her fingers through her hair distractedly.

"Have a good evening, Apprentice Surana"

She stopped and looked over at the Templar, surprised, but she soon smiled when she realized who it was, "Why thank you Ser Cullen. I wish you the same," She bowed her head and started walking away, when she heard Cullen whisper something to himself. She stopped and turned around, "Pardon? What was that?"

His eyes widened and a blush started to form, "Wha-what was….what?

"I thought I heard you say something" She tilted her head to the side slightly and brought a finger to rest beside it, her brows furrowed in fake curiosity.

"I-I said not-nothing…"

"Oh? It sounded like 'You deserve better anyways'" She smiled bemusedly, "That's not what you said then?"

Cullen audibly gulped, and his blush intensified, "What? No-no, I would never say-say something like that…" He started to look around nervously, "Pardon me, but I- I have to go report…something, to my commander…" With that he turned and started to walk, briskly, down the hall in the opposite direction of the apprentice quarters.

Artalise smiled and watched him go for a few moments before as she entered the quarters, the room abuzz with noise as they all discussed how their day went and who had had the most amusing accident.

She moved quietly to her bunk, but stopped with a start when she saw what lay upon it. Gingerly, she reached down and picked up a delicate white lily, and she brushed a finger down a soft petal. _Who in Thedas….?_ Her brow burrowed again, this time while she attempted to figure out who could have left this…gift there. The mages had a small garden on the very top of the tower, where they grew a wide assortment of herbs, but she didn't believe they actually had any _flowers_ up there. There was no medicinal use for such frivolities. No, it would have had to come from someone who had access to the outside world. A Templar.

Her eyes widened as she connected all the dots, and smiled broadly to herself as she brought the lily to her heart and she felt a dull warmth growing across her chest. _Just when the night seems at its darkest, always comes the dawn__._

Every evening thereafter, until the night of her Harrowing, her subsequent betrayal of her friend Jowan, and recruitment into the Grey Wardens, she came back to her bed only to find another flower laying across its sheets.

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

_Note: As I was writing ACTD, I kept rethinking who I wanted Artalise to be...she seemed to change every chapter, so I stopped where I was an immediately started to write up a prologue defining her history and her character a little bit more. This also changes some of what I wrote in my 4 old chapters, so I will be revising those to make sure they make sense with this version of Artalise as well as covering some scenes I missed out on the first time around. Twas a good lesson in writing fanfic, me thinks. _

_Note 2: I've reread these chapters a couple of times to check for grammar and spelling errors, but I know I probably missed some..._

_Thanks for reading and let me know what you think of this story so far: is it good, bad, or just plain ugly?_


	5. Chapter 1:  Quality time with Duncan

_Note: I make references to information from the books by David Gaider- specifically "The Calling". If you haven't read the books, you probably won't pick up on the reference...if you desire clarification let me know and I can send you a PM about it. It will...ahh...be brought up again (Gee, I wonder how? ;))_

_

* * *

_

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

The excitement of being out of the Tower faded quickly. She could actually pinpoint the moment she started to realize that her life was going to be drastically different too – when the first stone got lodged in her shoe. At first she had hobbled a few steps, not wanting to hold the Grey Warden leader up, but Duncan quickly noticed the change in her pace. He stopped and looked down at her feet with concern, before looking up at herself, "Did you injure yourself Mage Surana?"

She shook her head shyly, slightly embarrassed at herself, "No. I-I seem to have a stone in my slipper." She explained as she reached down do dislodge the stone.

"Slipper?" Duncan muttered to himself before his eyes widened as noticed for the first what exactly the mage was wearing – a soft silk slipper, ideal for walking in a stone Tower perhaps, but most definitely not for the march he was planning to make in order to reach Ostagar as quickly as possible, "Oh my…I do apologize Mage Surana; I hadn't thought to ask to ensure you had proper traveling clothes…" He glanced back up the road they had come and rubbed the side of his head, "We've been walking a couple of hours too…I don't remember there being any villages before Ostagar on the route I wish to take…" He gazed up at the sun, "We'd lose a day going back to Kinloch Hold…" He muttered to himself.

"Oh no!" Artalise rapidly waved her hands in front of herself in protest, "Oh no, no, no! We won't go back to the Tower. I can – I _will_ make it through to Ostagar." She finished with a resolute nod of her head.

Duncan gave her a look that made no attempt to hide his doubts about the truth in that statement.

"I swear!" She swung her little backpack to the front and started riffling through it, pulling out a small case, "I brought a small sewing kit, so I can repair my shoes, and," she smiled a little bit, "I'm not a half bad healer- I can take care of myself."

Her determination caused the Grey Warden to smile. No, Irving had definitely not been wrong when he suggested her to him as a potential recruit, "Are you ready to move out then?"

She paused a moment before answering, "Just one more thing. Please, just call me Artalise. It's usually how we mages refer to each other," she grinned, "Unless we are in trouble, of course."

Duncan chuckled, "Such is the way for most, I imagine. If you are ready, then, Artalise?" She nodded and he then bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement, before he turned and continued on the path towards Ostagar, Artalise following closely behind.

The first few days of travel found the two travelers walking silently, each lost in their own thoughts. Artalise couldn't imagine what the Grey Warden was thinking, but her own thoughts revolved around the past couple of months at the Tower; Anders leaving, Cullen's admiration, Jowan's betrayal. When not thinking of her past, she started to go over in her head spells that she knew that would be useful to the Grey Wardens, particularly focusing on her abilities of fire, often calling small flames to lick around her hands. Duncan had looked on, amused, but saying nothing.

By the fourth night, however, she was tired of thinking of the past and curious about her future. Herself and Duncan sat around the small campfire eating the stew made from the hare he had caught and the various herbs and root vegetables she had gathered from the area surrounding the campsite. He had made a comment to her before about how much better camp dinners were after he picked her up, and she had laughed and thanked him, as well as her small amount of herbalist training, before silence fell over the camp once more.

She eventually cleared her throat, "So, if I may, what had brought you to the Circle?"

Duncan looked at her from over his bowl of stew and started to chuckle, "Irving told me you had the worst case of curiosity he'd ever seen. I admit I am a bit surprised it's taken you four days to ask that question" He smiled again, showing he meant no offense and put his bowl on the ground in order to fold his hands in his lap "I was in Orzammar about a month prior looking for some potential recruits. The order I am from, The Grey Wardens, our ranks have a...tendency to be filled with humans and elves and among those mostly warriors. While I value every single one of them, the strength of the Wardens is built partially on having a…" he paused, as if searching for the word, " a variety of talents, skills, and backgrounds. I went to the Dwarvan lands with that goal in mind, but sadly the two recruits I had my eyes set on, were…ahhh...taken elsewhere before I could ask them to join me." His eyes focused in on the flickering flames of the fire, lost in his memories.

She said nothing for a few moments, until she couldn't resist any more, "But why did you come to the Circle if you were looking for dwarves?"

He smiled, "I decided going along the east coast of Lake Calenhad wouldn't take much more time than going along the west shoreline. I had received word once I left Orzammar that the King and the rest of my Order were moving towards Ostagar in order to face a darkspawn horde that had been sighted there, " he eyed her to see what her reaction was but all he got was her nodding in understanding. She was already aware of the rise of the darkspawn; a day or two prior to her leaving the Circle many of the Senior Enchanters and mages had left to go down to Ostagar at the request of the King. He nodded to himself and continued, "I had traveled to most every other village, town and city in Ferelden over the past year by that time, and while I had found some new recruits, I doubted I would find another in a place I'd been so recently. The only place I had left was the Circle," He paused a moment, laughing to himself, "I thought it would be a futile mission: Recruiting a mage, especially from the Circle, has always been a challenge." He noticed the ways her brows furrowed in curiosity at that statement, and decided to extrapolate, "While many mages are tempted by the freedom from the Circle, or rather, should I say, from the templars that we provide, most are not so willing to sign up with an Order that is...ahhh... not known for its _quiet contemplation_, as it were." He eyed her again with a crooked smile, "I do hope you realize that the Grey Wardens will be making use of your talents on our battlefields. You will spend very little time in Towers reading books."

Artalise grinned back and held up the slipper she had just repaired earlier that evening, "I am well aware of that, let me assure you! I believe I have walked more these past four days then in the whole of my life at the Tower!"

Duncan chuckled and looked relieved as well at her answer, before he glanced up at the night sky, "I am sure you have more questions, Artalise, but the night grows long and dawn will be upon us quicker than we will like. If you will not mind, let us visit the Fade now, and tomorrow I promise I shall answer your questions."

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

Duncan was true to his word, and the next day found the recruit and leader walking side by side, the mage asking questions and the older man either answering or artfully skipping around the information that she desperately wanted to know. For instance, she knew from reading a history on the Blights that the Grey Wardens were always the ones who stopped it, but she had never figured out how. Most mages in the Tower were too absorbed in other tasks to concern themselves with a feat that hadn't occurred in over 400 years. She had always wondered though…Was it magic? Did they use a sword with a specific incantation? Was there a particular spot on the Archdemon that only the Grey Wardens knew about? Each time she asked Duncan about it, he diverted her attention so well that it took her a few moments to realize that once again he had avoided answering the question.

At some point she noticed that Duncan appeared to become more wary; his eyes darting through the forest and his hands starting to move closer to the short, yet quite wicked looking sword and dagger pair on his back. Artalise looked around and attempted to hear something, _anything _that would give her cause for concern, but her keen elf senses picked up on nothing.

"We are getting close to the Korcari Wilds, and thus nearer to Ostagar. While the horde is still some distance away, there are always small groups of stragglers who get separated." He explained to her quietly. His steps – which had been quiet before had become nearly silent. She did her best to quiet her own, but compared to Duncan she might as well have been stomping her feet and whistling loudly.

Suddenly he put his hand up, causing Artalise to jerk to a stop to avoid walking into his hand, and he withdrew his short swords, holding them at the ready. Artalise brought her staff to the front, peering into the woods that surrounded them as she tried to see what Duncan had sensed. _How does he know something is out there?_ she pondered.

The bushes several paces to their front rustled, causing the two travelers' eyes to focus there. Several long moments passed before it seemed like the whole forest moved. A small grotesque creature suddenly emerged from the bushes right beside them, its sword out and aiming straight for Duncan. _So this is what darkspawn look like_ she noted to herself.

The Grey Warden easily sliced through the creature. He turned to face Artalise, a black smear of the creature's blood across his face, "Stay on my back," before running towards two taller creatures that had also appeared before them. Artalise followed, opening herself up to the Fade and feeling herself swell with its power. As Duncan brought his sword down on one of the tall darkspawn his weapons burst into flames, causing the creature to howl in pain and fill the air with the smell of burnt rotting flesh. As Duncan twirled his other blade towards the second creature, Artalise heard stomping and grunting behind her. When she turned her head she saw two squat creatures, same as the first one who had attacked them, come running towards her with their rusty swords lifted high.

Once more she called upon her reservoir of the Fade's power and pointed her hands towards the two rapidly approaching monsters. Flames erupted from her hand, catching the two in the blast and they stopped not five paces from her, howling as they became blinded and their flesh burned. As the flames died down, they took a few more halting steps in the direction they knew the mage to be at, but by that time Duncan had finished off the other tall creature and was able to take care of the remaining two with a quick slice of his sword. When no other darkspawn came out of the woods, Artalise closed the small stream of power that gave flames to the sword. Duncan lightly touched his weapons blades, and grinned to himself when he found them cool to the touch.

Her heart was still pounding as Duncan knelt down next to the burnt corpses, ripping off a bit of the threadbare clothing that hung loosely around the dead bodies to wipe off his sword, "It's been many years since I've traveled with a mage. I'd nearly forgotten how useful you all are in a fight."

She blinked, surprised. "Was this mage a Grey Warden as well?"

Duncan nodded, "She was, yes. Elf too." He chuckled a little bit at a memory, "Had a penchant for fire also, as I recall."

Artalise smiled her curiosity in this woman piqued through shared interests, "Is she with the rest of the Wardens at Ostagar?" She was always eager to meet another elven mage, and the _stories _this Grey Warden mage would know….

The smile faded slightly from Duncan's lips and he stood up as he finished wiping his swords down, "No. She…left to reside at Weisshaupt, which is the Grey Warden headquarters in the Anderfels far to the north." He stopped for a moment, his eyes focused elsewhere than on the present, before shaking his head and looking back at her, his face solemn once again "The fact that darkspawn have started to creep beyond the boundary of the Wilds indicates there might be more darkspawn than I had anticipated. We have at least a weeks journey left to arrive at Ostagar. Be on your guard."

She nodded her assent, and once more they began their trek to the fortress of Ostagar.

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~


	6. Chapter 2:  Old Friends and New

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

The tall walls of Ostagar were a welcomed change of scenery for Artalise after days of forest, then marsh. _It's been what…near two weeks of travel? _Artalise sighed to herself and then winced as she stepped on a rather sharp stone. Her shoes were nearly behind repair, and were destined for the fire as soon as she could find the quartermaster Duncan promised was inside the camp. She should have been worried about how she was going to pay for new shoes…but numerous skirmishes with the darkspawn has solved that issue. She grinned as she shook her little pouch full of coins as the memory came back.

~~~V~~~

_It was right after their first fight, right outside the Korcari Wilds. Duncan and Artalise had turned to go, when something on the ground caught his attention. He paused, staring at it for a moment, before reaching down and picking it up. When he twirled it around his fingers, Artalise was shocked to see it was a silver Ferelden coin._

"_What use have the darkspawn for Ferelden coin?" she asked in surprise._

_Duncan tossed and caught the coin several times, as if thinking. Artalise had had questions she had kept to herself about what profession the Grey Warden had been before he became thus…but when that crooked smile passed his lips and he started to search the darkspawn corpses, she was pretty sure she knew the answer._

_Artalise wrinkled her nose at the thought of touching the dead creatures, but her desire to help the man who had saved her was more powerful so she had stooped down and gingerly searched through the short creature's poorly made armor. She was somewhat pleased when she found a small pouch with some copper coins in it._

_It took little time at all to search through the dead bodies, with Artalise walking over to where Duncan stood counting the coins out and dropped the coppers and few silvers into his palms. Duncan paused a moment, before shaking his head and extending his palms in her direction._

"_No, no. These coins belongs to you. Consider it money for a new pair of boots." He said as he eyed her tattered shoes and poured the coins back into her outstretched palms._

_Artalise blinked several times, tentatively touching the coins and even raising one silver to eye level so she could examine it better._

_Duncan arched an eyebrow, "You act like you haven't seen-" His eyes widened as he realized that no, she most likely never _had _seen money before._

_Artalise smiled as she slid the coins into a pouch, "I might have seen coins passing hands, but never have I had money of my very own. There's not much need for coins at the Tower. Or at least, not much need for apprentices to have such an utterly _mundane _thing as money." She explained as she then stashed the pouch into her backpack. "I am now the richest I have ever been, yet never have I lived a more difficult life." She grinned at Duncan, "For love of the Maker, look at my poor shoes!" for emphasis she stuck one very dirty and torn slipper out from underneath her robe. Duncan laughed, before he directed her towards the path again, obviously eager to start traveling again, though he chuckled to himself for the next few minutes as they resumed walking along the road._

_They had met several more groups of darkspawn along the path, all of them meeting the same fate as the first group. Duncan actually gave Artalise all the coins they found, much to her delight. She had tried to refuse at first, but he had waved her off and stated that he had all he needed, and felt that the young mage could use the coins to help acclimate herself to life outside the Tower._

~~~V~~~

Duncan stopped when they were a few hundred paces from the gates of Ostagar and turned to face her "Before we go in Artalise, I would have a word with you." Artalise cocked her head slightly to the side, curious, before she nodded her head.

He took in a deep breath, "Irving has told me about how life in the Circle is – how one rises through the ranks through merit rather than pedigree. Outside the Tower-" He waved his hand toward the fortress as if to add emphasis to his statement, "it is not like that….especially for one of elven descent." He held his hand up to stop her protest, "I know you think you may already be aware of this, but I assure you the first time you are insulted your _awareness_ of this issue will do nothing to ease the offense. We have few women in the Grey Wardens – fewer elvish women. In fact, I think there is only one here at Ostagar. While no one in the Order has ever given her issues, she has often had…issues with some humans, and I am sure once I arrive back at camp she will be giving me a long list of humans who have now found themselves….incapacitated to fight anymore." he smiled to himself, before realizing the tangent he had gone off on and hurried to bring it back to his original point "Just be aware that to most within these walls you will be seen as a maid or as a…." He searched for a way to put what he wanted to say more delicately.

"As a whore" Artalise stated plainly as she arched an eyebrow. While the mages themselves, especially the apprentices, were well insulated from most of Ferelden's culture, the templars most definitely were not. From time to time a new templar would arrive at the Tower, stating such views about the elves. He would usually find himself in a Chantry soon after the complaints would start filtering through- Irving would not tolerate such prejudices.

Duncan nodded his head grimly, "Indeed. As that. Now, shall we proceed?"

~~~V~~~

The moment Artalise entered the tall stone walls she practically gagged at the stench that threatened to overwhelm her. The smell of an unwashed mass of humanity intermixed with dog was like nothing she had ever smelled before. It was much worse worse than any potion Anders had concocted, that was for sure.

The first part of camp that they walked through was apparently where the bulk of the army was residing, as they soon entered a walled off portion of the camp that was like a breath of fresh air and much less crowded.

"The King's camp. This is where we will be-

"Duncan!" a voice boomed from further into the camp, "I had asked the guards to inform me as soon as you returned. I was starting to think you weren't," grinned a young man just quite a few years older than herself and encased in brilliant golden armor. Beside him strode a much older man, his face carved with deep ravines of hard-earned knowledge and cool stern eyes that missing nothing- Least of all the small figure beside the Grey Warden leader.

"King Cailan and Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir," Duncan whispered to her before walking towards the King and kneeling in front of him. Artalise followed suit while Duncan spoke, "I apologize for keeping His Grace waiting."

The King laughed, "No need for such formalities, Duncan! I can see _why_ it might have taken you longer to return." He commented appreciatively as Artalise felt his gaze on her, "I thought you were going to Orzammar, Duncan? Unless the dwarves have gained a few inches in length and lost a few inches in breadth since last I saw them, I do believe that you have recruited an elf."

Duncan slowly rose to his feet as did Artalise, "My King, I did indeed go to Orazammar, but I was unable to find any suitable recruits. By Andraste's Grace, I stopped near the Circle on my way back from the dwarves and I found and recruited Mage Artalise Surana." He nodded his head slightly at her, indicating that this was her introduction.

Artalise found herself at a lost for what to say, she just bowed her head slightly, "My King."

Cailan arched an eyebrow, "I've heard stories about how you find recruits, Duncan! It is surely a more interesting story than that!" The King looked like he wanted to go on and ask for more details, but the older man beside him cleared his throat and gave the King a look that bade him to leave the Warden leader and recruit be. Cailan sighed, "I would love to hear more about your travels Duncan, but I fear there are some commanders I must speak with…Perhaps later you can meet with me to go over some strategy, and Mage Surana," he smiled, "Perhaps at some point you can regale me with the tale of Duncan's dashing recruitment?" Both Duncan and Artalise bowed their heads respectively as Teyrn Loghain directed his King back towards his tent.

Duncan let out a sigh as the small party left, "The Teyrn disapproves of the King's fascination with our Order." He offered as a means of explanation before turning to look at Artalise, "I have tasks to take care of in the Warden camp. If you will, I would like for you to track down two other new recruits and a Warden for me, as I would like to speak to you four before we sleep tonight regarding a task."

When she nodded her head, he went on "Their names are Ser Jory, Daveth, and Alistair. The first two are recruits I have found recently who have yet to undergo the Joining. The last is the Warden that will be seeing you through the ceremony." He turned to leave before pausing for a moment, "I imagine it will not take too long- tell them to meet me by that fire" He pointed to a large bonfire near the center of this area of the camp. Artalise nodded but didn't move for a few moments as the one soul she knew in this area of the world walked away. She took in a deep breath, calming her nervces before she walked further into the unknown camp.

"Artalise?" a strangely familiar voice asked from behind her.

Artalise quickly turned around, her face breaking into a large smile when she recognized the older woman mage standing before her, "Enchanter Wynne!"

Wynne smiled also in greeting, though her face made no attempt to hide her curiosity, "It is good to see you, too, though I confess to wonder what an Apprentice is doing outside the Tower?"

"I am an Apprentice no longer- A few weeks ago I underwent the Harrowing." She explained with a grin.

Wynne nodded her head slowly, a smile still on her lips, "Well then congratulations are in order! But that also leads me to merely reword my previous question. You didn't come with us Circle Mages, and so I wonder how a mage finds herself in Ostagar? Alone?" Though Wynne made no reference to it, Artalise knew what the senior enchanter was hinting at – had Artalise escaped the Tower like Anders had a scant few months ago?

"I was recruited by Duncan – a Grey Warden."

Wynne's eyes widened in surprised, "You, a Grey Warden?" She blinked as she processed the information, "Yes, it was well known that Irving was partial to you. But I don't understand how Greagoir would have allowed a mage escape his watch without this Duncan using the Warden's Right of Conscription...?" She asked, her eyes focused on Artalise's reaction.

The younger mage shook her head, "No, Greagoir let me go."

Wynne was again surprised at this information, "Well! That sounds like there is quite the story behind that, but-" she added when she noticed Artalise slight anxiousness, "I am guessing that you have more important things than gossiping with an old enchanter, hmm?" she finished with a smile.

Artalise smiled as well, "Unfortunately I do. Duncan wants me to track down three men – an Alistair, Daveth and a Ser Jory…I don't suppose you know where any of these men are?"

Wynne's brow burrowed together as she tried to remember if she knew any of these men."Hmm…Oh! Actually when I was talking with a Sister just a little while ago, I believe a young man introduced himself as Ser Jory to someone else nearby. He may still be over there."

Wynne's information proved true. After she asked a young Sister, she was pointed towards a man a few years older than herself in armor and the largest blade she had ever seen strapped to his back. There had been an awkward moment when he had first mistaken her for a servant, but he apologized as soon as he heard her mention Duncan's request.

She had then gone off in search of either Daveth or Alistair, asking questions usually to the elf servants who scurried around the camp. They usually were of little help, but she preferred to ask them than deal with the misconception of her being a servant that nearly all the humans had had of her despite her fine mage clothing. Their ability to ignore everything but her ears amazed her. She hadn't gotten any leads from the servants when she noticed she had walked near the quartermaster. At that very moment her feet seemed to ache much more than before, as if begging her to get new footwear. _Now's as good a time as ever, I suppose _she thought and headed towards the man, thinking that she might as well buy her boots, especially seeing as the other two men she needed to find was nowhere to be found. Who knows how much walking she would have to do.

The man had been sorting through some packs of items when he looked up and saw her, "Hey now, where's that armor set you were suppose to be bringing me, ehh?" he said as he focused only on her face. His expression changed slowly when expanded his view to see the clothing she wore and he straightened up when he noticed the staff, "Oh pardon. Thought you were one of the various good-for-nothing elves who scurry around here trying to avoid work," he said gruffly, "Is there something I can help you with, mage?"

She decided to not hold his prejudice against him, but neither was she going to be overly friendly, "Do you have any leather boots?" She asked curtly

He grunted and made a motion indicating that he wanted her to show him her feet. She held one foot out underneath her robe and he grunted again, "Aye, I think I might have a pair of boots to fitcha. Wait here a moment."

He turned and went into one of the large tents nearby, disappearing for a minutes as she could hear him rummaging through various chests before she heard the solid shutting of a lid and his subsequent reappearance. As he walked back over to her she felt like he was sizing her up. His ears perked up when she took her small money pouch out of her bag and started to count out some silvers nervously. She hoped she had enough.

"Ten silvers for these boots" He quoted.

She blanched slightly. 10 silvers would use up most of her money. She started to hand the money over to him when she heard a snort behind her and the sound of approaching feet.

"Here now, ser. I bought a pair of boots off ya just like those for half that price just this morning. Has there been a run on boots-"" A lithe young man with dark brown hair and dark stubble said as he casually walked up to the two of them and crossed his arms, "Or are these _special_ boots?

The quartermaster guffawed and muttered some excuse under his breath.

The newcomer made a _tsking_ sound, and shook his head before he placed a hand on her shoulder and gestured towards her, "_She _is Duncan's newest recruit. Imagine his distress when he hears that the quartermaster is trying to-"

The other man's eyes widened as he heard the name Duncan and spoke out, stopping the newcomer in midsentence, "Oh? She's a Grey Warden recruit then, ehh?" He turned and gave Artalise a smile and held the boots out to her, "Well if that's the case I'll give you my Grey Warden discount and sell the boots at 5 silvers."

She smiled as well and counted out the 5 silvers, handing the money over and receiving the boots in return. After the transaction was done, the quartermaster disappeared into another tent under the premise of taking inventory of its contents.

Artalise turned to the newcomer and bowed her head slightly in thanks, "Thank you good ser." A thought suddenly crossed her mind, "May I ask how you knew I was Duncan's recruit?"

The man grinned, "I was told by a passing elf that he had recently been asked by an elf-woman dressed in a fine yellow robe and red hair if he had known where I was. It wasn't hard to track you down…"

Artalise eyes widened, "Oh! Then you must be-"

"Daveth, at your service." He bowed graciously. " I understand that Duncan wishes to see us?"

Artalise nodded, "He's by the main fire in the camp. But before you go, " she said hurriedly as the other Grey Warden recruit turned to leave, "Do you know where a man named Alistair may be?"

Daveth shook his head and shrugged, "No, sorry I don't. However, " he grinned mischievously, "the mages could probably tell you."

He laughed and waved, not bothering to clarify to a confused Artalise what exactly he meant by that statement as he walked off to the campfire. However her attention was soon drawn to some rather upset sounding voices that were coming from atop a stone ruin. She hurriedly put on her leather boots and tossed the worn slippers into a nearby fire.

She walked quietly up the ramp and stood to watch two men, one in armor the other clearly a mage argue about something. The word "message" was tossed around a few times, but other than that she couldn't make out clearly what was being said except that both sides were less than pleased with the exchange.

Eventually the mage stomped off to go somewhere in the camp, the blonde man in armor shaking his head after him and muttering something under his breath. Artalise cautiously approached, her curiosity getting the best of her. The man noticed the movement and looked up at her, for once actually appearing to notice her outfit instead of her ears. He noticeably let out a sigh of exasperation.

"Maker's Breath! These ruins are just _crawling_ with Circle Mages aren't they?" He said at a volume that was clearly made to ensure she heard, but Artalise couldn't tell if the question was rhetorical or not. She decided on the latter.

"Perhaps, but I am not with the Circle, so I hope you are not including me in that observation," she said with a small smile.

The man sucked in his breath and eyed her suspiciously, "You are _not _with the Circle?" He paused for a few moments before continuing, "Then are you an…"

"Apostate?" She shrugged, "Perhaps. First, tell me what you consider an apostate and I'll tell you whether I fit that description." She crossed her arms and gave him a defiant look.

The man sucked on his bottom lip absentmindedly as he contemplated his answer, his eyes never leaving hers, "One who is no longer part of the Circle."

Artalise cocked her head to the side while bringing one finger up to rest her cheek against, "Well then, according to your definition I suppose I _am_ an apostate."

He seemed taken aback by her blatant honesty and it took a few moments for him to form a coherent sentence, "Wait, what? I, that is, you…."He shook his head, "You are either the stupidest apostate ever or the most blindingly loyal Ferelden mage I've ever met." He paused, "Though I suppose those could be considered the same thing." His face suddenly went blank as if he was concentrating on something, and it took a few moments for Artalise to realize what he had done. Her eyes widened with surprise as she felt her connection to the Fade become cut off and the small reservoir of power she held dissipated. That, of course, could only mean one thing.

_Templar?_

She did a double take, confirming that he did not wear the armor of the Templar, yet obviously he possessed the abilities of one, and with herself now stripped of her power, the situation was turning quickly against her.

"Wait!" She held her hands up in front of her, begging him to stop his approach, "I was recruited by Duncan, leader of the Grey Wardens!" she blurted out.

That succeeded in making him stop. He stared at the young mage is disbelief, "Duncan went to Orzammar for recruits."

Artalise breathed a sigh of relief as she felt her connection to the Fade tentatively open again before she answered, "He did, but he wasn't able to find anyone to recruit and so he went to the Circle to see if he could have success there," She spread her arms in a grand gesture, "And so, here I am."

The young man nodded his head, not taking his eyes off her and clearly still not believing her story, "Where is Duncan now?"

"He said he would be waiting by the fire in the middle of the camp."

"Good. Come with me and we'll get this sorted out."

"No."

"_No?_" he asked incredulously.

Artalise gasped as she felt the Templar use his power against her again. She was starting to get a bit annoyed, but she attempted to hide it as she tried to explain herself, "Duncan told me I needed to find three people before I returned to him. I've found two, but I need to find the third. If you'll help me track him down, I'll go see Duncan with you." She explained, her voice slightly pained as her power grew weaker and weaker.

The templar took a few moments to weigh the situation before he nodded his head, "Who are you looking for?"

"A Grey Warden named Alistair."

The man blinked a few times, clearly surprised, before breaking out into a crooked smile, "Well that was incredibly easy. You've found him. Now let's go see Duncan, shall we?"

~~~V~V~V~~~

_Note: Reviews would be very much appreciated! I'd especially like to know if you think that I should just stop writing because what I'm posting is an offense to fanfictiondom...;)_


	7. Chapter 3:  Tension, Trust, and Treaties

_This chapter is dedicated to lacthryn18 and fussycat. You guys or gals made my day. Glad you like it so far! :)_

~~~V~V~V~~~

Duncan could tell the moment that Artalise and Alistair appeared in his view that something was amiss. Word had already reached him about Alistair's recruitment by the Revered Mother for seemingly no purpose other than to annoy the mages- but the looks on their faces had nothing to do with that, he'd wager. The look in the Warden's face was too accusatory, and the look in his newsest recruit's too sullen. The leader hid a knowing smile as they drew close; given their backgrounds he had some idea of what had transgressed between the two.

The both stopped a few paces away from Duncan. Alistair pointed a fingers towards the mage, his face making it clear that he didn't trust the young elf, "Duncan, this woman says that she is your recruit. Is this true?"

Duncan cleared his throat eyeing Alistair disapprovingly, before turning his attention to the Artalise, "Thank you Artalise for finding everyone in such a short time."

Artalise let out the breath she had been holding in, relaxing as the Templar stood there shocked, "You recruited a _mage_, Duncan? Whatever happened to the dwarves?"

Duncan sighed, "Alistair, now is not the time nor place to speak of such matters. Instead, at the moment I desire instead to tell you of your task tomorrow." He beckoned the two to come closer. Alistair walked to the far side of Duncan, and Artalise moved next to Daveth, smiling to him in greeting. Daveth smiled back and nodded his head before all eyes became focused on the leader.

"As you have all been informed, you will be recruits until you partake in the Joining ritual, " He glanced up at the sky which was painted with violent red and oranges. _Ominous, indeed_, "Which will take place tomorrow night, Maker willing. Tomorrow morning you will go out to the Korcari Wilds and fill these," he held out three small glass vials. They looked common place, but Artalise felt the faint stir of magic coming from them. Her interest was definitely piqued, "with darkspawn blood. As Artalise can tell you, it should not take long for that task to be filled," He nodded in her direction and gave a small approving smile. "However, there is another task I need you to complete. Duties keep me here, else I would do it, myself." He turned and focused his attention on Alistair, "I need you to retrieve some items from a chest that the Grey Wardens of old had stored in an archive not far from here."

Alistair looked surprised at this information, "There was once a Grey Warden archive here?" He shook his head in amazement before continuing, "You _do _have a map, don't you? Or am I expected to just wander about and pray to the Maker that I stumble upon it?"

Duncan smiled sardonically, "I am afraid Alistair, that I know about this chest only by hearsay. The information was passed onto me from the previous Grey Warden Commander." He paused as if debating how much he should say, "What is in that chest can only be used in a Blight- they are scrolls- treaties- which allow the Grey Wardens to call upon the armies of men, dwarves, elves and magi." He waited a few moments, letting this sink in before explaining further, "This chest hasn't been opened in 400 years. I admit I am curious to learn if it still exists."

"And just how will we open this chest? I'd imagine any chest that is suppose to last that long would have magic about it." asked Daveth, crossing his arms flexing his fingers as if he was remembering an unpleasant experience he had with such an enchanted chest.

Duncan nodded his head at the question, "Indeed, the chest was suppose to be enchanted. I have the key in my tent, and I will give it to you upon the morrow," He looked around at the four surrounding him, "Are there any more questions?" when no one spoke up he nodded his head, "Good. Then I will see you tomorrow."

The four turned to leave when Duncan's voice called out, "Alistair and Artalise, if I could have a word with you two"

Both of them let out little sighs, knowing full well what was coming. Daveth could be heard snickering as he left the fire area to head to the Warden area of the camp.

Nothing was said for a few pregnant moments. Artalise shifted her weight from one foot to the other while Alistair stared at the ground as Duncan watched both of them. The sudden sound of his voice cutting through the silence brought both sets of eyes immediately to his, "Alistair, apologize to Artalise."

The Templar's eyes widened and he looked like he wanted to protest, but his respect for Duncan kept him from voicing his opinion on the matter. Instead he stared at Duncan, while Duncan stared back unflinchingly. There was no way out of it.

"I- I apologize for not taking you at your word, _Artalise_." He muttered through clenched teeth.

Duncan gave Alistair a look of disappointment at the lack of sincerity in his words, but Alistair shrugged it off. He had, after all, done what the Grey Warden leader had requested.

"Is that all, Duncan?" Alistair looked eager to leave.

Duncan shook his head, "There is one more thing that I should have told you sooner. Alistair, you are the only Warden who has room in their tent. Artalise must stay with you."

The flickering flames of the fire made it difficult to tell for sure, but Artalise was pretty sure the Templar's face went white.

"Wha…what?"

Duncan sighed, "Artalise must stay with you." He repeated, though he knew Alistair had heard him just fine the first time. "The King has asked for my presence as soon as I was done talking with you all. Until the morrow" Duncan nodded his head to the two of them before turning and walking off into the night towards the King's tent.

Long moments once again passed as the mage and templar stared at each other, aghast at what they had just been told. _Surely_ Duncan was joking? But when he didn't appear again, clapping his hands and with a big smile on his face to tell them it was all in jest, the reality of the situation sunk in.

Alistair cleared his throat first, "I suppose I should show you where the tent is."

"I suppose you should."

"Follow me, then"

The first few minutes of their walk was full of icy silence. It was once again Alistair who broke the silence, this time his voices hushed so only she would hear, but full of accusations "I know about you mages. What you do up in the Tower."

"Oh? You know we practice magic? How clever of you. Not many would be able to guess that."

"Actually I had no idea that occurred before you told me. Learn something new everyday, I suppose," he responded, his voice rather light before his tone became more serious again as he continued, "No. I just wanted to let you know that you shouldn't even _try_."

Artalise blinked. _What in the world was he making reference to?_ Slowly it started to sink in and she let out a chuckle. Of course _that_ aspect of Circle life would make it out to Ferelden citizenry. Mundanes could be such prudes. Part of her wanted to strike back at the Templar, especially the part that was still fuming over his use of the Templar powers on her. Revenge would be so sweet. But...so would not having to deal with this friction between them. Undoubtedly they would be working closely together.

So instead of stating the bitter remark that danced temptingly across her tongue, she turned and looked at him innocently, "I shouldn't even try…what? Singing myself a lullaby? Taking off my boots before I sleep?"

Alistair started to look uncomfortable, "Umm, yes well, honestly so long as your voice is good, feel free to sing a lullaby. The boot question is a good one though. I'll let you know once you take them off."

Artalise's smile widened, noting the complete avoidance of pursuing the original topic, "But then what, _ser_, were you making reference to? What should I not _try?"_

Alistair made no response, but he did pick up the pace a little bit, causing Artalise to scurry to keep up with him.

"Rumors, while often having some basis in fact, are often exaggerated to an extent that the little shred of truth that started the rumor is barely discernable" She quietly offered as an explanation as she caught up with him, "I imagine your templar teachers had some most amusing stories to tell about us mages," she added with a smile.

Nothing was said for a few more paces, but Artalise could feel the tension start to ease between the two of them. The silence was then broken by a small chuckle from Alistair, "Yes, the older templars would often regale us with tales of Tower life – usually ending with all the mages in some mass orgy or some-sort." He paused a moment, "Are you telling me that's not real then?"

She laughed as well, "Would I even admit to it if it _was_ real?"

"Nooo…I suppose not. Would it be wrong if I said that I am almost disappointed?" Before she could answer, he stopped abruptly in front of a small tent, and spread his hand towards it, "This is the tent…" He paused a moment, looking uncomfortable again, "I suppose I could let you go in first and get ready. I can, you know, just wait outside."

Artalise smiled, but surprised him with a shake of her head, "No no, that's OK. I think, in fact, that I will go over to the Magi encampment for a little while."

"Will you be able to find your way there? It's getting quite dark…"

Artalise grinned, and for her answer she held out her hand and a small orb of fire appeared in it, casting a dull, flickering light on her surroundings.

"Riiiight. Forgot for a moment about the bit of you being a mage and all. Well, have fun. Don't stay up too late or I'll tell Duncan on you." Alistair quipped as he wagged his finger before he ducked into the tent.

It wasn't very difficult to find the magi part of the camp – it was probably the most well lit area in it. She was nearly there when her attention was drawn to some deep-throated growling and the soothing sounds from an unknown man that soon turned into a flurry of curses. Artalise paused and looked at the fenced off wooden area as a man came out of the gate, shaking his hand and muttering under his breath. He happened to glance up and see Artalise looking at him.

"'ey there…don't suppose you might be willing to 'elp me with something, ser mage?" He asked, still shaking his hand out. Artalise took a few steps closer, her nose wrinkling up as the smell of dog intensified. She tried to crane her head to see what the occupants of the fenced in area, but she saw nothing. Cautiously, she nodded her head her curiosity surpassing her wariness once more, "If it is something I can help with."

"I don't suppose ya know what a mabari is?" He questioned. He clearly had dealt with mages and their lack of knowledge about certain Ferelden customs before. She smiled, "I have heard of them, but beside for a few glances I've had of them at this camp, I've never dealt with one…"

He snorted, impressed, "Well, today might jus' be your lucky day, if I do say so meself. I've got one 'ound who lost 'is master in a skirmish with some buggers earlier today and it got itself bit. 'e's not having too good o' a time and I need to get a muzzle on 'im 'fore I can do any more treatin'." He sighed and looked behind him, "Unfortunately 'e's not letting me put the blasted thing on 'im…. Friend o' 'is ol' master told me that this hound always had a partiality towards women-folk…" He looked at her to see if she realized where he was going. She did.

She blinked once or twice in surprise, "You wish for me to put a muzzle on him? I've heard about the strength of the mabari breed – He'd be able to snap me in two!"

The kennel-master chortled and nodded his head knowingly, "Aye, they're a pretty strong breed. 'ere now, just walk o'er to the side of this fence, and if 'e snaps at you I won't ask again." He paused before pleading, "Please ser mage, I'd 'ate to lose 'im"

Artalise gulped and took a few steps towards the high wooden fence, scarcely able to get her head above the top of the fence to look down at the heavily panting mabari hound. Their eyes locked and the hound let out a faint whine.

The kennel-master clapped his hands, "Ah, ya see? Bugger always snaps at me when 'e sees me. 'e _likes _you!" He grinned and handed her the muzzle expectantly.

She took a hold of it gingerly, "I suppose I could…give it a try…though I have your word that you'll take action should I be attacked?" she asked nervously.

The man nodded his head and he folded his arms across his chest and bowed every so slightly, "On my 'onor."

She nodded before she took in a deep breath and opened up the gate slowly, just enough for her to slip in. Hound and elf stared at each for a few moments, Artalise feeling her heart melt as she saw the pain in the poor animal's eyes. Part of her was tempted to cheat and lull the animal into a sleep before putting on the muzzle, but part of her was thrilled at the potential for danger, of the unknown. She walked slowly towards the mabari, whispering calming words to him, before slowly kneeling down and slipping the muzzle over him. He growled slightly as the leather slipped over his snout, but made no movement indicating he was going to attack her. She petted his head lightly before summoning some magic and making the hound fall into a deep slumber.

A low whistle sounded from the other side of the fence, "I 'ave to get you mages to 'elp me out more often." Artalise grinned as she stepped outside of the fence, shutting the gate softly behind her.

"Listen, I 'ate to ask you to do something else, but rumor 'as it that the Grey Wardens are going out into the Wilds on the morrow?"

Artalise was surprised that so much was known about her already – not only did this man know she was a Grey Warden but he had some idea of their task the next day. _It's certainly true that camp gossip spreads quicker than wildire!_ She grinned to herself as nodded her head in assent.

"See, there's this flower out there in the Wilds that I can use to 'elp cure this bugger of the taint. "Wilds Flower" we call it – blood red on the inside, white on the outside. Real pretty thing. If ya could bring me one o' those, I know I could save 'im" He paused, thinking for a moment, "An' if you do, mayhaps after the battle we can see if we can imprint him on you, hmm?"

She was rather taken aback- she knew, of course, about the imprinting process of the mabari…but she never imagined of herself being the recipient of it. Especially as an elf. "I-I will look for this flower, and I will bring it to you should I find it."

"Aye. Well, thanks and Maker's blessing to you!" He turned and walked towards another part of the kennels, eager to return to the care of the mabari.

Artalise stood still for a few moments, collecting her thoughts, before shaking her head and walking the few hundred paces to the mages camp. She was greeted warmly by Wynne and other senior enchanters. Apparently Wynne had told the others that she had passed her Harrowing, and thus received numerous congratulations before the question arose as to how she had become a Grey Warden. It took some prodding on their part, but Wynne proved especially convincing and eventually Artalise described the whole sordid tale – of Jowan's request for help, of Lily, of the First Enchanter's desire for her to go along with it, of entering the basement of the Tower, of which the mages were particularly interested in her description of the artifact room as few got a chance to go in there, and finally of Jowan's blood magic. Most of the mages were moved to be sympathetic to her, though a few like an older enchanter called Uldred, whom Artalise never really liked anyways, sneered at her tale and walked away. The telling of Artalise's story opened up the floodgates for all the other mages to tell stories of their own, some that shocked Artalise to hear – she had no idea such things went on in the Tower, while others had her practically rolling on the ground in laughter.

After several hours passed and the moon was high in the sky, Artalise stood and started to say her goodbyes when she felt a small tap on her shoulder. Surprised, she turned around and smiled when she saw Senior Enchanter Leorah, a good friend to Enchanter Iona, Artalise's former teacher, standing behind her with a pair of fine leather boots in her hand.

Leorah pointed down at the rough, and slightly too big leather boots that Artalise had bought from the quartermaster, and shook her head disappointingly, "Artalise, I am sorry, but I couldn't help but notice your choice of boots? Enchanter Iona would never forgive me if I allowed you to trounce around in such _mundane _things." She held out the boots in her hand; Artalise could almost see the runes that had been worked into the fine, subtle leather, "I had a spare set of boots. They were given to me as a gift a long time ago, but I rarely used them as the runes in them are geared more towards fire, " she grinned, "And I prefer lightening myself. But I imagine that that is perfect for you, no?"

Artalise grinned her thanks, sitting back down on the log near the fire and taking the poorly made leather boots off. While she slipped the supple new boots on, Leorah tossed the old boots into the fire with a sniff of disdain.

Artalise then stood and jumped around in the boots, pleased with how well they fit. She smiled broadly before hugging her teacher's friend, "These boots are wonderful! Please, when you go back to the Tower, tell Enchanter Iona how thankful I am for everything she did for me…I-I never got the chance to."

Leorah nodded, "But of course! Now, I will keep you no longer – I imagine the Grey Wardens will have you rising at an unholy hour to partake is some utterly boring tasks, hmm?"

Artalise sighed and nodded her head with a reluctant smile, hugging the other elf again in goodbye before bringing forth her little orb of fire to light her path back to the tent. Her memory served her well again, as she peered into the tent with a dimmed fired orb and recognized the armor of the templar scattered haphazardly towards the far end of the tent. It had appeared that he had hurriedly gathered his gear that had laid on her now designated side of the tent, as it lay in a circle around his bed roll.

As she unrolled the other bedroll in the tent and settled down to sleep as quietly and as quickly, as she could, she thought she heard a quiet _tsking_ noise coming from the slumbering man. She smiled to herself and her fire orb winked out of existence.

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

Artalise rubbed her tired eyes and yawned, stretching her arms to the sky as she worked out some kinks she still had from the lumpy bedroll. She trailed the three men as they took their first few steps outside the gate and into the Wilds. She could hear bits and pieces of what they were talking about; it sounded like they were trading stories on all the horrible things rumored to live in this area. She rolled her eyes at their gossiping and looked at the all too familiar scenery behind her.

A movement on a nearby hill caught her attention, but when she turned her head to look at it more clearly, all she could make out was a black shape. She kept her attention focused there for a few more moments, but when she didn't see nor hear anything she wrote it off as her imagination playing tricks with her. Besides, she soon had other things to worry about.

"Wolves!" came the cry from ahead. She swung her staff around and called the Fade to her, her companions' swords bursting into flame. The first battle of the day.

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

Alistair and the two other men watched the elf search the darkspawn corpses with some amusement. He had discounted it when they had had their first battle with the darkspawn and the recruits had needed to fill their vials with the black taint. But this….this was beyond him. Why touch the darkspawn after it was dead? He shuddered at the thought of touching the corrupted flesh. Yet here was a delicate elven mage picking her way through the rotting skin and clothing wet with vile liquids all for the sake of a few coins. Even Daveth had commented that while he loved all things money, he wasn't about to bother for the few copper the darkspawn seemed to carry on them- Maker only knew why.

_You can take the elf out of the Alienage, but it seems you can't take the Alienage out of the elf. _He sighed, "Do you really have to do this, Artalise? The sooner we find the treaties, the sooner we can return to civilization."

Artalise finished searching the last darkspawn and stood up. She gave the corpse an angry kick, as when alive that particular creature had gotten too close for Artalise's comfort. Its burnt skin crackled as the leather boot hit it, and she grinned before starting to walk back to the group of three men who were standing together, all looking rather disgusted.

"What? Is a few minutes really all that important to you?" She asked, surprised, "I don't understand why I am the only one who has any interest in finding some coin. I thought coin ruled supreme in the world outside the Circle?"

Daveth grinned, "That last statement is true enough, at least"

She looked at the three men, wondering if any of them were going to voice their concerns over her searching the darkspawn corpses. She snorted when she just received uncomfortable glances and shrugged, "Well, to make it up for you, I'll buy you all a round or two once this Ritual is complete."

That received smiles from her two fellow recruits, though Alistair seemed slightly less impressed. He merely cleared his throat and jerked his head towards the trail they had been heading on before they had been attacked, "Let's continue on then, shall we?"

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

Artalise was healing a rather nasty slash on Ser Jory's leg while Alistair started to rummage around in the nearly overgrown ruins they assumed was the old Grey Warden archive. Daveth called out to Alistair, who came running over to him, and the two men stood over something. Artalise was curious to see what they had found, but she pushed that curiosity aside as she focused her efforts on staunching the flow of blood from the knight's wound. However, her concentration was broken when she heard a surprised shout and the sound of weapons becoming unsheathed. She glanced quickly down at the wound, relieved to see that the steady flow of blood had stopped, and even that the skin around the wound had started to heal. He would be recover soon, and well, enough. Knowing this, she looked up to see what caused such surprise in the rogue and templar. Even Ser Jory climbed to his feet when he saw what had approached.

It was a large black wolf. Its cool amber eyes watched the men with vague interest; almost disdain. Artalise's eyes widened as she became aware of the magical aura surrounding the wolf. By the conflicted look in Alistair's eyes, she could tell he felt it too.

"Wait!" She shouted as Ser Jory prepared to hurl himself at the wolf. The three men looked back at her in astonishment and confusion. She paused a moment as she focused her awareness on the wolf, who suddenly seemed to grow interested in what she was saying, "This is not just a mere wolf. There is...magic involved here."

A strange sound came from the wolf. It almost sounded like laughter. The wolf sat back on its haunches before the air around it started to thicken almost to a fog, colors swirling in and out of it. The wolf was eventually completely shrouded from view. A bright flash nearly blinded the stunned onlookers, and as they regained their eyesight, all eyes went wide with shock.

Before them stood a naked woman; a beautiful woman, that could not be denied, but very much without a _shred _of clothing on her. Artalise was more impressed with the magic this woman obviously had at her command – _shapeshifting?_ But from the slightly gaping and utterly silent men around her, Artalise could tell what _they_ were most impressed with. She cleared her throat, drawing the woman's amber eyes to her own, "We mean you no harm, woman, so long as you will do us none."

The woman smiled and nodded her head as if impressed, "Tis a good thing these men have a woman in their company. Staring accomplishes so little." She shifted her weight and crossed her arms "May I have your name then, mage of the Circle?"

"Artalise." She paused a moment before adding, "of the Grey Wardens."

The woman's smile grew wide, "Ah! It all becomes clear now. What you seek, Warden," she gestured towards the broken chest that lay at Daveth's and Alistair's feet, "is no longer here. But, " She held up a hand to stop the elf mage's protests, "I can lead you to where the treaties are."

"Yo-you-you're a witch!" Both women were rather surprised at the sudden outburst from Daveth. The shapeshifter's expression soon turned to annoyance as the rogue refused to meet her eyes - his attention obviously focused somewhat lower. "'Tis true that I am known to some as that. To others, more civilized, I am known as Morrigan."

Artalise looked at the Junior Grey Warden, but he seemed too dumbfounded to be able to decide on what they should do. Artalise sighed, _Men!_ "Morrigan." She said, drawing once more the piercing focus of the woman's eyes, "We will follow you to the treaties. But," she added with a crooked smile, "I would ask that you shift your form again."

Morrigan actually laughed and nodded her head in Artalise's direction approvingly, "A most wise request, indeed! So let it be done." Once more a fog appeared in the woman's surrounding area, masking her from their view, and soon the large black wolf appeared before them again.

The men closed their gaping mouths and shook their head as if waking from a dream before looking at each other and seemingly having a conversations with nothing more than expressions on their face. Artalise rolled her eyes and started to follow Morrigan who had already started to lope further into the Wilds. Her companions followed, and she could hear them whispering together. Just like apprentices in the Tower when one came across something forbidden and were trying to shield it from the enchanters.

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

A small hut soon appeared out of a thicket of trees. A shiver went through Artalise at the amount of power that settled in this area; it was like a thick fog. Even Ser Jory and Daveth seemed slightly put off from this area, not mention Alistair whose senses were probably shrilling at him. The door to the hut opened, and out came an old woman, scrolls clutched in her hands. She held the door open for Morrigan, who trotted inside and let the door shut resolutely behind her.

"So, Morrigan has judged you worthy to see old Flemeth, hmm?

All of the companions froze for a moment when that name was uttered. Flemeth was a name that every child in Ferelden feared as mothers, or in Artalise's case harried enchanters, invoked Flemeth's name frequently to scare the child into repenting for the wrong they had committed. Given the power in this area, those old wives tales could very well be true; just like the Flemeth of those tales, this was a woman to respect, or more aptly, _fear_.

Once more it was Artalise who spoke up, after waiting to see if Alistair was going to be the leader he was suppose to be, "Morrigan mentioned that she knew the location of the scrolls we needed." She gestured to the scrolls in the old woman's hands, "I assume those are they?"

Flemeth nodded and looked like she was going to say something more, when Alistair's voice broke through, "What are you doing with these scrolls? They belonged to the Grey Wardens!" his tone full of accusations-accusations that shouldn't be cast about so freely when their recipient was quite possibly the strongest mage in all of Ferelden, apostate though she was.

Thankfully the woman actually let out a cackling laugh, "The Wardens should have watched the area more carefully, my boy. Where were the Wardens for all the long years that archive deteriorated? _I_ rescued your beloved treaties. Even the strongest magic can deteriorate after the passing of several ages…and so it was with the chest that once contained these." She gave him a pointed look, as if curious to see what his reaction would be, chuckling when all he could do was sputter some nonsense.

Artalise cleared her throat, drawing the woman's attention back to her, "Thank you….Flemeth" she said cautiously, "Is there some way the Wardens could repay you?"

Flemeth looked truly delighted and again let out a cackle as Morrigan stepped out of the hut, this time in her human form as well as clothed, though Artalise was amused to notice that she was clothed…_barely._ She heard someone behind her gulp.

"What a find, Morrigan! It's been so long since I've had visitors with some sense of manners."

"'Twas a welcomed surprise indeed Mother." The younger woman crossed her arms and looked eager for them to leave the hut, but she said nothing.

Flemeth took a step forward and handed the scrolls over to Artalise, "All I ask is that the Wardens do what they are suppose to do, mage" She looked over at Morrigan, "Now, my girl, why don't you lead these Wardens back to their camp?" The old woman arched an eyebrow, "And perhaps this time you do it while fully clothed, hmm?" She then cackled again and turned around to enter the small hut.

Morrigan pursed her lips together, but said nothing in response to her mother before she turned her attention back to the four companions.

"Shall we?"

~~~V~V~V~~~

_Note 1: I wrote this chapter thinking I was going to end it with the Tower of Ishal...Hahaha. Amazing how a story can evolve on its own! I had to stop when I realized I was at 5000 words already..._

_Note 2: OK, so...I understand why BW has Morrigan able to shapeshift with her clothes on (ratings and all that), but I don't understand how that could actually work if they abided by the rules of magic that they set up - it says clearly in the codex that objects (the physical world) are immutable to magic (Codex: Cardinal Rules of Magic), so having them change form with the caster seems to go against that rule...in my reading of it of course. Opinions would be welcomed._

_Note 3: If you liked this story, reviews would be much appreciated!_


	8. Chapter 4:  Ritual and Return

_A.N. - So I was planning on making myself stick to a schedule for releasing stories...go with a Sunday/Wednesday cycle...but then I wrote Chapter 6 and I realized I didn't want to wait until next Wednesday to release it...So I think starting today and the next two days, I'll release the next chapters, and I will probably just release chapters as I write them instead of sticking to a schedule. If you like this enough, you can always add it to alerts so you can know when the next chapter is out. Until September expect updates at least once a week, usually more...but once school hits I'll probably go down to once a week. :)_

_A.N - I made a pic of Artalise - you can see it on my profile page. I also have created a thread on the "Community Creations" board over on the DragonAge Bioware forums, where I will be posting all future pics and updates, and it also makes it a lot easier to people to comment and to get a response, if they so desire from me. :)_

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

Artalise's mind raced as she listened to Alistair intone the words that began the Joining ritual. Earlier in the day, as she and her companions had reentered the gate Artalise had dashed over to the kennel master and placed the small bunch of Wild Flowers she had gathered into his eager hand. Without even waiting for a thanks she then scurried over to Duncan's fire, where the men stood, waiting for her, some more patient than others. Duncan, the treaties in his hands, had informed them that while they had been in the Wilds, the Circle mages had completed all the preparations except for the addition of the darkspawn blood, and now that the recruits had brought it, the ritual could begin.

She glanced warily at the chalice – the blackish reddish blood held within had the faint aura of magic, and she wondered which mages had prepared it. Did she know them? Did they know what she was about to do, and not tell her? She pursed her lips and shook her head slightly, her attention focused on the Grey Warden leader as he spoke,

"Daveth, step forward." Daveth did so eagerly, and Artalise admired him for his courage. Before the ritual had started Ser Jory - the one she would have pegged at realizing the importance of becoming a Warden and that sacrifice was necessary – had seemed like he wanted to back out. Instead, it was the cutpurse and pickpocket who stated he was willing to sacrifice all he had and more if it meant the Blight would be stopped. The irony didn't escape the mage.

Daveth raised the chalice to his lips and sipped the liquid. A few moments of calm passed…and then he started to clutch at his throat and gag. Artalise lurched forward, wanting to try to help him, but a strong arm kept her rooted in her spot. She looked over and saw it was Alistair, a sad look in his eyes while he shook his head and silently bade her to stay.

Daveth crumbled to the ground, gasping for air as his body spasmed before he went still. Duncan frowned, his eyes solemn as he turned to an uneasy Ser Jory. "Ser Jory, step forward."

The knight's eyes went wide and he took a step back. Duncan's frown deepened and his free hand floated near his sword. Ser Jory's eyes went wide as he realized the situation he was in – drink the taint or be run through - and he stepped back even quicker, his own hand reaching for his large sword. It was as if Duncan was waiting for that moment, for the instant Ser Jory's hand grasped his sword, Duncan darted forward and slid his blade into the knight's armor between his ribs, bright blood flowing from the wound as the Grey Warden withdrew his blade.

Artalise's eyes went wide as well – and not only from the shock of seeing Duncan kill Ser Jory. Perhaps it was the ritual and the sacrifice inherent to it, or the magic that permeated the air around this ancient temple, but for the first time she was aware of the amount of power released upon death. She felt the power being released by the knight's death – it was like a river nearly bursting at the dam. It was power that could have been hers had she only learned how to destroy that dam that blocked her.

She was brought back quickly to the mundane world by the sound of Duncan's voice, "Artalise, step forward." She took a deep breath and took a step forward, taking hold of the chalice Duncan held. She took a moment to look at the liquid inside, her nose crinkling slightly at the smell, but honestly it was much more tolerable than some of the potions Ander's had made. She raised the chalice to her lips and took a small sip.

The effects were immediate. Her blood felt like it had been turned to sludge and her throat felt like it had clamped shut. She felt herself panic, but only for a moment before her world faded to black.

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

She awoke with a start, her mind still full of the image of swarming darkspawn and a dark dragon. After opening her eyes to the night sky, she shut them quickly as the first waves of a headache rushed over her. She groaned.

"Glad to see one of you made it. I was starting to worry that we were going to lose all three of you."

Alistair. She sighed, keeping her eyes closed and rubbed the sides of her temple while letting the soft flow of magic pulse through her body as she attempted to heal whatever the ritual had done to her. She pursed her lips together as she felt nothing. She opened her connection to the Fade a little wider, and focused even harder on healing her body. Suddenly she let out a small gasp as her connection was cut and her magic stopped flowing. Her eyes immediately flew open and she rolled over to glare at the smirking templar, "Will you _stop_ doing that?"

He shrugged, but his smirk never left his face, "You can't heal yourself – I was just trying to stop you from tiring yourself out."

Her glare narrowed, before she rolled back over to her back with an exasperated sigh "Well, next time, how about you _tell_ me that instead of doing your templar thing."

She felt him smile, "As you so wish, Warden." He cleared his throat, "Duncan was starting to get worried with how long it was taking you to recover. Apparently the King was looking forward to congratulating you on your passing of the Joining, but you were still knocked out when Duncan came by to see if you were fit to go"

"Mmm. Pity" She murmured.

Alistair chuckled and she sensed that he was about to say something else when a voice interrupted him from outside. "Alistair, is she awake?"

"Yes Duncan – she woke up just a few minutes ago, actually."

She heard the Grey Warden leader breathe a sigh of relief, "Good. I need you two to meet me by the fire." Without further explanation, the two heard Duncan's boots trudge off into the distance.

Alistair cleared his throat, "Are you able to get up?"

As soon as she had heard Duncan's command Artalise sat up, bringing her hand to her head as she felt the room spinning. She nodded and took a couple of breaths before grabbing her staff and crawling towards the door. Planting her staff firmly on the ground outside the tent, she used it to help pull herself up to a standing position. She stood there quietly for a few moments, gathering her strength as she listened to Alistair clamber out along beside her.

"You aren't going to collapse on me now, are you?" he said in jest, though she thought she heard some concern in his voice as well.

She smiled crookedly, "No. It just might take me a bit longer than usual to get there." She took a deep breath in and hesitantly took a step forward, all while leaning heavily on her staff. She blinked at all the light in the camp – usually by this time of night most people were sleeping. Tonight the camp was abuzz with movement. Duncan would know why.

Thankfully, as she took more steps she felt her strength return to her. It was as if the movement was necessary to get her blood flowing again. By the time they reached Duncan, she was walking normally again.

The Grey Leader's eyes were focused on the fire as if deep in thought, though they knew that he was well aware of their approach. When they were but a few paces away from him, he finally turned his eyes to them.

"The King sends his congratulations, Artalise."

Artalise bowed her head slightly in acknowledgement, waiting for him to continue as she knew that he had something more important to say.

Duncan cleared his throat, "The main body of the horde has been sighted approaching Ostagar. They will be here within an hour." Alistair nodded, having apparently been told this already, but Artalise was shocked to hear the news. The final battle? Already? Duncan continued, "The plan that Teyrn Loghain and the King have made requires that the beacon at the top of the Tower of Ishal be lit to tell the Teyrn when he should flank the horde." He paused, eyeing the two young Wardens, "The King has requested that the two of you light the beacon."

Alistair threw his hands up in the air in disgust, "What? We, Grey Wardens, have been designated to sit and babysit a beacon; we have to _sit_ and watch the battle?"

Artalise merely nodded her head when she heard the news; to be honest she wasn't too upset at the prospect of avoiding a fight.

"As Grey Wardens you must stop the Blight however you can – our way right now is to do as the King commands." Duncan said, his voice understanding but firm.

"Maker's Breath…." Alistair grumbled under his breath. The decision was made, and Alistair knew he wouldn't be able to change Duncan's mind.

"Duncan, how will we know when to light the beacon?" Artalise asked.

"The Grey Wardens will sound their horns. Alistair will know what to listen for – its tone is distinctive." He looked towards Alistair, who nodded reluctantly. Duncan opened his mouth to continue, but instead of words a loud sorrowful noise echoed out of the valley below. The Grey Leader's eyes widened.

"The darkspawn approach! Hurry – you must get to the beacon!" He commanded as he turned to head down to the valley.

The camp was a frenzy of movement as all made their way down to the valley.

Without saying a word to each other the two Wardens made their way to the bridge that separated them from the Tower- looking over its side hesitantly and gasping at what they saw.

Hundreds if not thousands of darkspawn were emerging from the thick cover of the trees that lay in the valley. Artalise blanched, and gripped the side of the bridge tightly as what was going to happen sunk in. This wasn't going to be a skirmish with just a small group of darkspawn. This was going to be a full blown battle. This was going to be war.

A hand suddenly wrapped itself around her arm and tugged her away from the bridge and towards the opposite end, "Come on, Artalise! We need to get going" Alistair urged.

The elf gulped and gathered her courage before running with Alistair across the bridge, dodging the fireballs and stones that were beginning to land all around.

_What have I gotten myself into?_

_

* * *

_

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

Alistair's jaw dropped as he looked behind him, darkspawn ichor dripping down the side of his sword and shield. _No. She can not _seriously_ be doing this. Not right now._ Alistair sheathed his sword and ran over to the elf as she was stooped over a darkspawn corpse and rummaging through its clothes for a few copper. Once more he gripped her arm and pulled her to her feet, her wide, surprised eyes staring into his, "Now is _not_ the time for this." He growled at her before releasing her and walking back towards the two guards whom they had been able to enlist in their mission to light the beacon.

She blinked rapidly, shocked at her fellow Warden's actions toward her, but she reasoned quickly that he did have a point. When they had arrived at the Tower, they had both stared at the corpses of guards and listened with shock as the sounds ahead of them signaled that there were darkspawn ahead. Darkspawn, in the Tower! Once they had finally been able to enter the Tower, they realized how that had occurred as they had shimmied around a gaping hole in one of the rooms in the first floor. For being a mindless horde, supposedly, the darkspawn had a remarkable sense of timing and strategy.

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

Alistair bounded up the steps, taking two at a time, leaving the guards and mage to follow as quickly as they could behind him. He had been inside this Tower several times before and he knew that the beacon was on this next floor. He shouldered open the thick door that led to the top floor of the Tower, but stopped immediately as he saw what else was in the room with him.

On the far side, near the beacon, stood a monster the likes of which he had never seen. It stood, perhaps 3-4 times his height, with long curving horns erupting from its head and wicked looking claws at the end of huge hands. Blood dripped from the creature's fist as it tore into the body of guard. The guard's head lay near the beast's feet.

"Maker, protect me…" he whispered to himself as the ogre noticed that it was no longer alone in the room. The guards and mage finally caught up with him, and he heard Artalise gasp behind him.

"Light the beacon, Artalise!" Alistair shouted as the beast let out a roar, charging across the room and scattering the group. Alistair roared back at the beast, drawing its attention to himself. As the guards hesitantly moved towards the templar to aid him in the battle with the ogre, Artalise's eyes darted around the room, looking for the beacon. She finally located the small fireplace, and sent a small fireball careening towards the beacon from across the room. The ogre stopped suddenly in its tracks as it noticed the fireball, its nostrils flaring as it realized that the warriors were not the true threat. Its dark eyes focused on the small elven mage and it bellowed, ignoring the insignificant cuts the knights were making as it charged towards the woman.

Alistair yelled and tried to get the beast's attention again, but he quickly realized that nothing he did would change the ogre's focus, so he charged after the retreating back of the ogre. The wounds he and the guards had inflicted on the beast had thankfully slowed it down, enough so that he could catch up with it. Gathering up his strength he launched himself at the back or the ogre and plunged his sword into its thick muscle, grimacing as black blood spurted out and coated his face. The beast let out a howl before it turned into a screech as Alistair felt hot flames licking his sides and the smell of burnt rotting flesh made his nostrils flare. As soon as he felt it take a step back, he jumped off its back, taking his sword with him. The monster growled and clawed at the air as if still trying to get the templar off its back. He let out a sigh of relief as the beast crumpled to the floor, flames from the beacon flickering off its body.

Relief didn't last long, however. From the door from whence they had come a swarm of genlocks streamed forth, their bows fitted with arrows that they let loose at himself and Artalise. He felt arrows pierce the areas where his armor was weak and his world faded to black.

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

Artalise groaned. Waking up with a splitting headache was getting really old, really fast. Once more she sought her connection to the Fade and focused its stream of Power to flow through her body, healing her wounds. Her eyes flew open when she realized that the only pain she felt was her headache. She had a faint memory of arrows piercing her body, yet she couldn't feel any wounds.

She heard a woman chuckle at her side, and turning her head she saw that it was Morrigan, who was smirking down on her, "Mother was able to heal all your wounds – at least the ones she could see. Alas, she did not think to ease your head-pain as well. A small oversight on her part."

Artalise nodded her head as she examined her body, thrilled at the lack of scars, before she looked back up at the amber eyed woman. "I owe you, and your mother my life, thank you."

Morrigan looked slightly taken aback by the thanks. She said nothing for a few moments, before she appeared to suddenly remember something, "Mother asked to see you once you awoke. She is outside, near the fire."

Artalise rolled her shoulders, working out some kinks in her body, "May I ask how long I've been here?"

"A few days. Your wounds were extensive. Your friend's less so…the benefits of wearing armor, I suppose."

Artalise looked up with a start, "My friend? You saved Alistair as well?"

"_I _didn't save anyone. Mother did. I merely helped with the healing. But yes, your friend is here as well. He is probably outside, crying by the pond."

The elf noticed the small amount of disdain in the other woman's voice, arching her eyebrow but she decided not to say anything about the matter. Instead, she looked around the immediate area of the bed, and not finding what she was looking for, looked up at Morrigan questioningly, "Where is my clothing?"

While Artalise had examined the surrounding area, Morrigan had resumed browsing the books stacked on a shelf. Without a word, the woman pointed at a large chest by the foot of the bed. Artalise crawled to the end of the bed and looked down at the chest, relieved to see her staff lying on the floor beside it. She opened it up, reached down to grab her carefully mended robe with a smile, and slipped it over her head.

"Did you mend my robe as well?" Artalise asked the woman with an amused smile.

Morrigan had moved to a small table and was chopping up various herbs and small vegetables. She nodded her head, "Twas me, yes. Mother never was very good with a needle." She paused a moment before adding, "Now if you go outside and speak with Mother, I should have the stew done by the time you finish."

Artalise grinned, and opened the door to the outside, squinting at the bright light of a mid-day sun.

The old woman smiled as she saw Artalise emerge from the door, "I was beginning to think that you were never going to awaken!"

Artalise smiled as well as she walked over to where Flemeth stood, "Thank you for saving Alistair and myself. We both owe you our lives."

Flemeth arched her life before chuckling, "It's about time someone thanked me! Ever since he awoke your friend has scarcely said a word and has done nothing but stare into the pond all day. Like he was thinking of walking into it and never emerging again." Flemeth shrugged as looked at the man sitting near the shoreline of the pond, "Which would be a difficult thing to do as the pond isn't deeper than a couple of feet," She then turned back to Artalise, "Why don't you go let him know you are alive?"

Artalise paused, peering at her lone fellow Warden for a few moments, before nodding her head to Flemeth in acknowledgement and making her way quietly to where Alistair sat.

Sad, hollow eyes glanced over her way when he heard her approach, before widening in surprise when he realized who it was and clambering to his feet, "You _are_ alive! Thank the Maker!" He breathed out. He looked like he was ready to hug her.

She smiled sardonically, "It would be more fitting to thank Flemeth, I think."

Alistair snorted and ran his hand through his hair, "A templar saved by apostate mages. Who'd a thought it possible?" He said with a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless.

She grinned in response before her expression turned more serious, "And you are doing alright?" she asked quietly.

Alistair's face fell and he turned to stare at the still water, "My wounds are healed. I still can't wrap my head around what happened though." He turned to look at Artalise while he made a little jerk of his head to the hut, "Once I awoke they told me that Teyrn Loghain fled the scene. With _all_ his men. He didn't fight at all! He left the King, and the Grey Wardens, to die!" his voice grew angrier as he went on, and she noticed his fists clenching. She couldn't blame him though.

She cleared her throat, "Were there any other survivors?"

"A few stragglers. All the Grey Wardens of Ferelden were massacred, " He paused, looking her straight in the eyes with a pained expression, "We are the only ones left."

"So it is up to us to eradicate the Blight." She stated.

Alistair threw his hands up in the air, exasperated, "Us and what army? What can an almost-templar and a mage do against an army of darkspawn led by a _dragon_? I'd imagine we'd make quite the tasty snack for it"

Artalise said nothing for a few moment, thinking, before she suddenly remembered, "What about those treaties Duncan had us search for?"

Exasperation faded and the smallest flicker of hope lit up Alistair's face, "That's right! The treaties to call the people of Ferelden to our aid!" His expression grew dark again and he let out a sigh, "Duncan had them. They remainl at Ostagar."

"I imagine you are wishing you would have left the treaties here, hmm? Shows the value of patience, doesn't it?" cackled Flemeth's voice from behind Artalise. The elf turned around to face the approaching old woman.

"I don't suppose you happened to pick the treaties up when you came for us?" Artalise asked, half in jest.

Flemeth snorted, "I can do much girl, but fight off an entire darkspawn horde is beyond even my abilities. But," she added with a wink, "I can tell you that most of the horde has passed on by now. Ostagar no longer swarms with thousands darkspawn"

Alistair looked doubtful, "I imagine that we would still be greatly outnumbered."

Flemeth cackled again, "Well then, let's do something about increasing the odds, shall we?" She turned her head back towards the hut, "Morrigan!" she yelled out.

The young woman meandered out and made her way slowly to where her mother and two Grey Wardens stood, "Yes, mother?"

"Is the stew done girl?"

"Yes mother."

"Good! You'll have one last meal at home and then you shall be joining these Wardens and helping them in their task."

Morrigan's eyes widened with shock and she stammered out a response, "Wha-what? I am to leave…._with these two?_" she finished with a note of disdain. Alistair let out a snort indicating he felt the _exact_ same way.

Flemeth grinned, "You've read every book we have five times over. It is time you finally experience the world beyond Wilds."

"Yes, bu-but…"

"You've always said you can't wait to see a city or a mountain, or the wide open sea."

"Yes, bu-but…"

"I'll hear none of it! If you do not join these Wardens, we may very well not have a home anymore. Would you see your mother homeless?" Artalise very much doubted that Flemeth would ever be homeless, but the sentiment expressed appeared to work on Morrigan, who glumly nodded her head.

"Wonderful- Now that that is decided, let us eat! You must be eager to get on your way."

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

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_Comments/reviews/critiques would be very much appreciated! If you like this story and think others should read it, I would encourage you to leave a review - I've made anon reviews possible. I know I always look at review numbers when judging if I want to read a story...and right now my reviews are rather pitiful (though I am thankful for every single one of them!)_


	9. Chapter 5:  On Shapeshifting

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

The hut had just disappeared from their view when Morrigan finally broached the subject the small group had been avoiding, "So, what is your _grand_ plan for retrieving the treaties?" When her only answer was the sound of boots trudging over the moist ground, she let out a sigh, "'Twas what I thought. Wonderful."

They had only taken a few more steps when Artalise put her hands out, stopping the other two and spun around to face them, "Morrigan brings up a good point. We need a plan." She looked at the other two expectantly, and they looked back at her with the same inquiring look. Clearly, they were getting nowhere. Artalise sighed and rubbed her temple, "Okay. Alistair. What do you know about the treaties? Where would Duncan keep them?"

The templar rubbed his chin, thinking back, "I believe he had a chest in his tent where he kept important documents."

"Where was his tent?"

Alistair grinned a little at her ignorance of where their leader's tent was, "Closest to the King's, of course,"

Artalise rolled her eyes at him, but went on, "OK, so we try to enter through the gate near the King's camp and then-"

"Or I could change into a bird and pluck the treaties up."

Artalise and Alistair instantly shut their mouths and looked at Morrigan in shock, before Artalise started to grin, "Oh! I completely forgot you could shapeshift…"Her brow furrowed a little bit, "But do you know a form that would allow you to pick up three treaties? I had enough issues holding all three in my two hands."

"Well, you _do _have small hands" Alistair quipped. The two women largely ignored the comment. A few moments passed as Morrigan contemplated the question.

"Hmm….well, 'tis possible I could teach _you_ to shapeshift as well. Together we should be able to retrieve all of the treaties." Morrigan suggested cautiously.

Artalise cocked her head to the side, "You could teach me? Would it take very long?"

"The length of teaching 'twould depend on yourself, of course. At best, you could have mastered it by tomorrow. At worst, never."

Artalise turned to face Alistair, who seemed quite caught up in watching the passing clouds, "Do you have any objection to this? If you prefer, I'm sure we could think of something that could-"

He shook his head quickly, "No need! Any plan that doesn't involve me potentially getting coated in that black slime sounds like a great plan to me! It took me forever to scrub it off my armor last time" he grinned.

Morrigan sniffed, "Perhaps we should include him then; to ensure he _does_ wash his armor." The two glared at each other for a moment before Artalise regained Morrigan's attention with a question, "We are not far from your mother's hut – should we go back there for the evening?"

The woman looked behind her, the direction where her childhood home lay and sighed, "No. 'Twould seem Mother has washed her hands of me. Asides from that, I can teach you here just as well as I could teach you there."

Reaching an agreement, the Grey Wardens followed Morrigan to a nearby clearing she apparently knew of. There, she bade Alistair to bring back a raven. He had stared at her, as if disbelieving what he heard and looked to Artalise for confirmation. After she nodded her head, though her brows were furrowed in confusion, he groaned and rolled his eyes, muttering to himself as he grabbed the small bow and some arrows he had picked off a darkspawn corpse they had recently passed and headed off into the woods.

"I hope the…raven…is not needed soon. Alistair is not known for his bow skills." Artalise stated delicately.

Morrigan arched an eyebrow, before taking a seat in the middle of the clearing and indicated to Artalise that she should sit down as well, "'Twill not even prove necessary, if you are a good student. But, at the very least, it rids us of his presence for a time."

Artalise hid a smile as she sat down next to Morrigan, looking at the older woman expectantly. Morrigan cleared her throat, her eyes focused on a point in the distance as if she was searching deep in her memories for the right words and methods to teach, "Shapeshifting is a form of magic, just like your Primal or Creation schools of magic. 'Tis just as easy to learn as well, so do not think there is some mystical art to it. The first step is this: What I want you to do is to fill your entire body with power- you are to keep it entirely within yourself. You are a cup, and you _must_ be filled to the brim." She stopped and looked intently into Artalise's eyes, "Do it."

Artalise blinked. It sounded so easy…but as with most things, the tasks that seem easiest can actually be the most challenging. All throughout her training as a mage she had basically been a channel for the flow of power from the Fade, making it do her will. Trying to be keep the flow of power flowing through her constantly proved to take more concentration than she was used to. When Artalise's breath steadied for a long period of time, Morrigan knew that she had succeeded in this task.

"Good.," She said suddenly, making Artalise lose her concentration and having the Fade power she had been holding onto erupt around her. Of course, a mundane wouldn't notice anything, but Morrigan surely could. She made a slight tsking noise before continuing on, "Now that you have _nearly_ mastered that skill, we shall move onto the next step." Morrigan looked out into the woods, and sighed, "Seeing as how Alistair has not returned, I shall shapeshift into a raven. I need you to memorize it's shape." Morrigan pursed her lips while thinking, "Also, pull out a wing feather and memorize it as well. 'Twas that part of the bird that gave me the most trouble." With Artalise's nod of confirmation, Morrigan's eyes went blank and her breathing became steady. Once more the mist appeared, and Artalise heard the dull thud of metal hitting the ground. As the fog dissipated quickly a small black raven hopped out of the pile of clothes and extended a wing towards Artalise expectantly. The elf mumbled an apology as she gingerly reached a hand out and plucked a single dark feather from Morrigan's wing. A muffled squawk and a ruffling of feathers indicated Morrigan's displeasure with the experience, but then the shapeshifter resignedly settled herself down onto the ground, occasional turning her head to look at something in the woods.

Artalise meanwhile lightly held onto the feather, running her hand along its side and watching how it moved. She waved it around, her eyes ever on it, and thought she saw an amused smirk on Morrigan's now beaked face as she watched Artalise's movements. After that she started to stare at Morrigan's raven form, this lasting until the sky was painted with the colors of dusk.

It was then that Alistair emerged from the woods, carrying not only a dead raven, but also a rabbit. He stopped as soon as he saw the raven that Aralise was staring at so intently, and pointed an accusatory finger, "What? You sent me out to get a raven, and now there is one right here? And your just _staring at it?_" Morrigan ruffled her feathers, before she came enveloped in a cloud, and when it dissipated a moment later she was sitting naked on the ground, with a casual look at Alistair, as if daring him to stare.

Alistair gulped as soon as he saw the mist, and the instant he saw the form of a nude woman appearing out of it, he covered his eyes with his free hand, "Maker's breath! Don't you ever wear any clothes?" he cried out as he instantly turned to face the opposite direction.

Morrigan smirked and reached over to grab her clothing, and while putting it on she explained further to Artalise, "Good. By now you must have memorized what exactly is the form you wish to shapeshift too. What we shall do next is not necessary, but for some it helps with the first transformation." She paused as she reached behind her to cinch her skirt tight, "I will cook you up a dish using the raven meat. It is believed that having a part of the animal as…ahh…part of you, inside of you, helps. Since Alistair was competent enough to actually hunt down a raven, I shall make a stew of it."

The templar had approached close enough to the conversation apparently to overhear it. He looked up in despair and pointed towards the rabbit, "Hey! What about the rabbit I caught?"

Morrigan glanced up from her rummaging around in her pack and sighed, "Why don't you find a stick and roast it?" She grabbed a hold of her small pot, "And speaking of sticks, 'twould be wise of you to gather some sticks for a fire," she then turned and gave Artalise a pointed look, "And as for you, continue on with the concentration exercise. You need to be able to maintain your hold on that power though distractions may abound. 'Tis a vital skill."

Artalise nodded and shifted her weight to get into a more comfortable position as she cleared her mind and attempted the exercise once more, ignoring Alistair's grumbling as he set up gathering sticks for the fire and skinned his catch. Soon, however, the smell of the roasting rabbit interlaced with the herbs and vegetables Morrigan had tossed in with the raven stew made concentrating on maintaining a constant hold on her magic difficult. Artalise heard the sound of a heavy bowl being placed in front of her and the wafts of its contents tickled her nostrils.

"Now, you may eat, but you must do so while the magic still fills you." Morrigan said softly, "If I sense that you have lost control, I shall not allow you to eat until you have regained and maintained control of it for a time"

Artalise blanched and didn't move for a few minutes as she ensured she had tight control of her power. Then, ever so slowly, she reached down to grab the bowl and spoon, sometimes stopping in mid motion as she felt as if she was going to lose control. She heard the sounds of spoons scraping the bottom of their bowls for the final dregs as she raised her spoon to her mouth for her first bite. Suddenly she felt a little bit of stew run down her chin and she hurriedly moved her hand to wipe it away. She then gasped as she felt as if the sudden movement had tipped her hold on her power over, and out sloshed some of what she had so carefully controlled for so long.

Morrigan tsked quietly and shook her head as she reached over and retrieved the bowl. Artalise sadly watched it go.

"Try it again."

Artalise's bowl wasn't empty until the moon was high in the night sky. During the long durations Morrigan held her bowl away from her, she at least had had the decency to put it near the fire to keep it warm.

Morrigan had a slight smile on her face, highlighted by the flickering flames of the fire as Artalise put down the empty bowl, "Good. Now, shall you try to become a raven, or do you desire sleep?"

Artalise knew there was more to Morrigan's question – the woman was wondering just how dedicated the newest Grey Warden to be. She was wondering how much respect she should give Artalise as a fellow magic-user. The elf was mentally exhausted, but she nodded her head, "I will try."

Morrigan arched an eyebrow, surprised to hear the answer the once-Circle mage gave her.. Alistair had fallen asleep hours ago, his snores punctuating the quiet of the night every once in a while, and she was expecting Artalise to want to join him in visiting the Fade, "Very well. 'Tis a simple process of combining the two exercises you have performed. First, fill yourself with power. Your whole body changes in shapeshifting, and thus not an inch of it must be empty of magic. Then, hold the image of the raven in your mind and force the power, force your body into that form. The sensation will be….odd….but it is important that you focus on maintaining the shape of the raven. 'Tis _very_ important"

Artalise bit her lip slightly. This sounded like it could be dangerous. She weakly nodded her head again though and proceeded to do as Morrigan had said. She opened herself to the Fade, letting the power fill her like streams to a lake. She felt the faint tingling sensation all over her body, not wholly unpleasant. She kept the power within her for a few moments as she took a few deep breathes, preparing herself for what was to come. Then, she molded her magic into the form of a raven. Upon doing so, the strangest feeling came over her, like she was being stretched and pressed down upon at the same time.

Soon she felt as if there was a cloth draped over her head and body, and she heard Morrigan chuckle, "Tis done. Open your eyes."

Artalise did so and let out a yell of surprise as she saw nothing but yellow. She blinked when she heard not her voice, but a loud squawk. There was movement above her, and a large hand took the robe off of Artalise, who was now gazing up at a much larger, and now smiling Morrigan, "'Twould be wise to take a few steps at the very least. It takes time to get use to a new form."

Perhaps. Artalise was finding just standing and looking over her new body fascinating enough. She extended a wing and admired the shiny black feathers of it. She ducked her head down and looked at her taloned feet, lifting each foot up to examine it a little bit closer. Then she flapped her wings to experience what it felt like and it finally sunk in that she would be able to fly. _To fly!_ She beat her wings for several moments, but felt no sensation of life. Morrigan watched on, amused, "So, you are already wanting to fly, are you?" Artalise responded by nodding her beaked head and hopped over to Morrigan, who smiled and scooped her up before placing her on an outstretched arm, "Flap your wings to get use to it. When you feel like you have gained some lift, step off my arm, and hopefully, you will fly instead of falling."

Artalise fell ingloriously into a little heap at Morrigan's feet several times before, finally, she actual flew a couple of feet before tumbling head over talons into the ground. Morrigan chuckled, "Landing is an art form that few humans can appreciate until they have tried to do so themselves." She walked over to Artalise's crumpled form and brought her to her feet, "You have done well; I admit I am impressed. But, we will have time enough tomorrow to master what you will need to in order for us to get the treaties. Let us rest now." When Artalise nodded her head, ruffling her feathers slightly, Morrigan smiled again, "Good, I am glad you are of agreement. Now, to change back into human form you merely have to release your hold on the power – you will revert back to your normal shape. It is preferable to merely push the power back into the Fade, as I am sure you have experienced the exhaustion that comes from just releasing it in this world." Morrigan smiled as she walked over to where Artalise's mage robes lay, and scooped them up and handed them over to the now nude elf, who looked up at Morrigan with a grin "I…I have never experienced anything like that! Why do you ever walk around as a human when you could fly instead?" she asked while slipping the robe over her head.

Morrigan laughed, "Tis true, that there is much thrill in shapeshifting. However, as with most powers it comes at a cost. While shapeshifted, a mage is not able to cast a single spell, as doing so disrupts their hold on their power. At times 'tis a very great inconvenience. "

Artalise looked slightly disappointed to hear that – she had been thinking that casting spells in a new form was merely a new skill she would have yet to master.

"Come, let us sleep. There is much for us to do tomorrow. We will both need our strength"

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~~~V~V~V~~~

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_A.N. - I'd be curious if you think this interpretation of shapeshifting makes sense within the rules of the DA universe..._

_A.N. - I know it wasn't the most exciting chapter...but twas a necessary one. As an apology thats why I will post chapter 6 tomorrow. :)_


	10. Chapter 6:  Return to Ostager

_A.N. First off this chapter is dedicated to kirbster676 for their kind review. :) I'd love to know what *YOU* think of this story as well! _

_A.N. Secondly, thanks to all of you who trudged through the previous chapter. I know it was kinda boring, but my inner geek was just begging for a chance to explore the theory and art of shapeshifting in the DA universe..._

_A.N. Lastly- this chapter should probably be considered "M" for gruesome descriptions. As I said in the summary, they are returning to Ostagar, scene to a bloody battle, and the results were not a field of daisies and daffodils with cute little bunnies running in it. The bodies there have been left out for nature and darkspawn to do with what they will. Its not pretty. You have been warned. _

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Artalise awoke to the smell of roasting meat, which was a welcoming experience compared to the nightmare she had had of darkspawn and dragons. Alistair was tending to the fire, and he smiled in greeting when he saw that she was awake, "So…did you accomplish what you wanted too last night?"

Artalise nodded, reaching for her water skin and taking a swig of cool water, "Indeed." She grinned, "You know, I can't imagine living a life without a constant connection to the Fade. How do you mundanes do it?"

Alistair snorted, "Well, _personally_ I enjoy living a life free from worry about becoming an abomination at any particular moment."

She shrugged, "Suit yourself. _I_ personally think life is more interesting with a little bit of danger in life. Adds a bit of spice to an otherwise dull existence."

"I think being a Grey Warden pretty much made the chance of living a dull existence an impossibility."

She smiled and nodded her head, "Fair enough." She reach over to the spit and scraped some of the roasted meat into her bowl, "But I still like being a mage."

"Tis fortunate I think, because it is very difficult to cut one's connection to the Fade, hmm?" Morrigan said as she approached the small camp from the woods.

Artalise nodded, "Mm. I don't know much about the ceremony that makes Tranquil, but I imagine it's not a pleasant one. And the results…" she shuddered.

Morrigan snorted, "Giving up one's ability to use magic, yet still having to be a part of the Circle. Could there possibly be a worse sort of existence?" She asked as she sat down and also sliced off some of the breakfast meal into her bowl. There was no answer, as everyone else was in agreement with it and were much more interested in finishing off their morning meal.

Morrigan set her bowl down when finished and looked over at Artalise, "There is much yet to do, and time is not on our side. Mother has….given the darkspawn something else to chase after instead of your friend. This will leave this Ostagar much emptier than usual, but not for long."

Alistair yawned, "Yes, well, you ladies have fun with all that." He mumbled as he laid himself back down and closed his yes.

Both women snorted before they moved off to a more private corner of the clearing. They spent the next couple of hours learning the basics of flying and, more importantly, landing without tumbling. She didn't get a nod of approval from Morrigan until the sun was high in the sky, "You've done well enough. Now, let us eat something before we head out."

After a quick meal of various berries and roots Morrigan had harvested from near the camp, both women walked into the tree line, just beyond the sight of Alistair and stripped themselves of their clothes.

"I know nothing of this man Duncan, nor his chest, nor the outlay of the camp. You may follow me to Ostagar, but once there I shall merely follow you and help you carry the scrolls. _You_ are the one who must find them." Morrigan stated as she folded her clothing into a neat little pile.

Artalise gulped at the pressure being put on her shoulders, but nodded before sitting down and concentrating on filling herself with power. Morrigan looked down at her and grinned, thinking of the days when she too had to work so hard to achieve the transformation. She waited until she saw the first signs of change coming over the elf before she also shifted her form.

Artalise opened her eyes and ruffled her feathers, eyeing the larger raven beside her. Morrigan pointed her beak towards the sky, as if telling Artalise to hurry up and fly. It took a few extra beats of her wings, but eventually she had navigated her way through the tree branches and was flying overhead the scattered trees. Soon Morrigan was beside, then in front of her, leading her to Ostagar. It didn't take long, however, for Artalise to no longer need Morrigan's guidance as the tall walls of Ostagar were clearly visible from miles away, especially when flying above the treetops.

Every moment they drew closer, Artalise felt her connection to the Fade becoming wider and wider. The whole air seemed saturated with power. She had heard that areas of much death caused the Veil to tear….this was the first time she had experienced it and it made keeping her form difficult. Once they flew over the high walls, Artalise swerved towards the valley, a dark curiosity setting over her to see what had occurred in the days since the battle, and the moment she saw, she wished she had avoided the valley. Limbs were torn from bodies, some eaten clean to the bone, others had decaying flesh melting from their bones. Some darkspawn were still down there, presumably to continue feasting on the dead. Sick of the scene, she gained altitude and decided to swing around to the past King's side of the fortress. However, as she crossed over the bridge area she nearly plummeted to the earth in shock.

In the middle of the bridge hung the rotting corpse of King Cailan, his body pierced by many arrows and she could tell by the way he hung that most of the bones in his body were broken. If she had come a few weeks later, the King's shattered bones would probably have been scattered around the area where he now hung, as the flesh that once kept the bones together rotted away. She circled the scene a couple of times, lost in her own thoughts, and then dived down towards it, enraged at the sight of a crow landing and nipping at the King's flesh. She didn't even know the man, but she knew he deserved respect, not to be plucked slowly away by scavengers. The crow let out an angry squawk and flew down into the valley for easier pickings. She landed on the opposite side of the bridge and stared at the darkspawns' sacrilege of the King of Ferelden, and was thankful that Alistair had not come.

Morrigan landed by Artalise and sharply pecked at her, clearly displeased at the length of time she had spent staring at a dead body. Artalise eyed Morrigan, annoyed, but also understanding the other woman's desire for speed. This was not the time to mourn; not when there were darkspawn everywhere. She took one last look at the King, with his once golden locks were now stained blood red moving gently in the breeze, and his mouth gaped wide as if in a perpetual scream, and then took to the air, heading towards the Warden area of the camp. Most of the tents were still standing, surprisingly enough. In fact, this part of the camp looked largely undisturbed, as if the darkspawn had only been concerned with the slaughter, and the subsequent feeding on of the Ferelden army, not with the looting and destruction of the camp. Artalise spotted the tent in the Warden section closest to the King and circled her way down to it, happily noting that there were no darkspawn in the immediate area.

She landed somewhat gracefully inside the tent and heard Morrigan land behind her. Her head turned quickly as her eyes darted around, trying to spot a chest, and she noticed a small one located in the far corner of the tent. She hopped over to it while Morrigan attempted to see if the scrolls were located underneath the bedroll or a small pile of clothing that was near the door..

Artalise paused when she saw the lock on the chest, but she decided to try to open it anyways. She wasn't surprised when the top didn't budge at all. She let out a squawk and pointed her beak towards the lock, letting Morrigan know what she should be looking for. Morrigan nodded and together they destroyed the room better than any darkspawn would have been able to in a frantic search for a key. But it was not there. As she looked around at Duncan's now destroyed tent, it slowly dawned on Artalise where the key must be.

On Duncan. In the valley.

She shuddered to think what she would find, but she knew she needed the key. Taking in a deep breath she hopped out of the tent and took to the sky once more and headed towards the valley. As she circled her way down she was thankful that her sense of smell seemed muted in this form. The stench from the dead would probably have knocked her out if she had come here in her human form. Her eyes darted across all the bodies of men and darkspawn alike, searching for Duncan's body, or at the very least for his distinctive armor. His face would probably be beyond recognition.

Suddenly she saw it- a crumpled form near the side of a steep hill. The head looked like it had been nearly severed from the body, hanging on by a single thin rotting thread of skin. Once more she saw a crow pecking at the remains, perhaps even the same crow from before, and once more she dove down to scare it away from Duncan's body. This time, the crow held its ground, hissing as Artalise landed a foot away, and spread its wings out. Artalise copied the threatening posture, though apparently the crow wasn't impressed enough to move until Morrigan rammed into it from above. The crow let out an indignant squawk and took off to the sky to try to find a corpse less interesting to the two ravens.

Artalise turned her attention to Duncan, lightly pecking at his armor, and specifically his belt where he kept some pouches, to see where he could have hidden the key. She tried to avoid looking at what was left of his face. A faint glitter caught her eye near the collarbone of his body and she reluctantly hopped towards the wound that had killed Duncan. She made the mistake of looking at the head and had to bury her desire to cry out as she saw what this noble, good man had become.

His eyes had been plucked out already by some hungry animal; perhaps even the same crow she had just chased away. Blood still stained the outside of his mouth where his final gasps of life had brought forth blood from his nose and lips. His mouth gaped open, revealing a cornucopia of squirming insect life. The blood was particular dense on what few strands of hair still clung to the decaying skin. Various insects could be seen moving within his skin, occasionally erupting from the fetid top layer. Some parts of his skull was already visible.

In all, if she was to ever have a nightmare again, this is what she would see.

She was glad she was a raven, else wise she knew she wouldn't have been able to hold her earlier meal, nor would she have been able to hold back her tears. She focused her attention instead on the rotting body. The cut had been clean, and the ground was now dry, though stained a deep red. She gingerly moved her feet over the bloodied ground as she attempted to grab a hold of the gold chain she saw with her beak, hoping to avoid touching the decomposing flesh. Eventually she succeeded and tugged the chain out, relieved to find at the other end a small key they looked about the right size to fit into Duncan's chest. As she tugged the rest of the chain out, she realized that she had two choices for freeing the chain; either biting off the skin that kept Duncan's head attached to his rotting body or navigating the chain around his detached head. She chose the latter, hopping backwards as she dragged and tugged the chain along.

Morrigan finally seemed to realize what Artalise was doing, and also saw the decision she had made. Apparently she disagreed with it, for as soon as the chain started to pass over the small flap of skin that connected his dead to body, Morrigan snapped her beak at the flesh, severing the dead Grey Warden's head from his body forever. Even more horrifying was that the cutting of the skin allowed Duncan't head to continue on the course it wanted, which was to roll down the gentle slope he had died upon, and coming to a rest at the foot of it, his eyeless head landing just so as to appear to be staring at the two ravens with his mouth gaped open in a perpetual scream.

Artalise didn't move for a moment, finding herself in shock at an act she viewed as desecration. However, her attention was soon diverted to a genlock who seemed much too interested in the shiny bit of metal Artalise held in her beak. He started to walk over to where the ravens stood, breaking out into a run when he saw that they were getting ready to take flight.

Artalise grabbed a hold of the key solidly in her beak before she took off into the air, following the quicker Morrigan and narrowly missing the grasping hands of the darkspawn, who let out a howl and started to chase after the fleeing birds.

They quickly found Duncan's tent again, and dived within it, Artalise, in her hurry and fear tumbling into the back of the tent. While she righted herself, Morrigan grabbed the fallen key and after a few moments of trying to navigate the key into the lock with her beak, she transformed herself into her human shape, grabbing the key and easily unlocking the chest. A noise coming from the front of the tent made her turn her head before she grabbed the scrolls, eyes narrowing as she saw a small genlock raising his sword to strike. He never got a chance to.

Ice erupted from her hands, freezing the creature in place before a projectile of earth hurled itself at the iced form, shattering it into a thousand pieces, Morrigan turned and looked at the elf who was now crouched naked by her side, her own eyes focused on the tent opening. They could both hear the approaching darkspawn.

"I know a form that the darkspawn seem to fear greatly, for reasons unbeknownst to me. Once I change into it, I need you to grab all three scrolls and use what magic you can to ensure the darkspawn don't get too close." Morrigan spoke in a clear, unnervingly calm voice.

Artalise attempted to mirror the older mage's cool demenour, but the wild thumping of her heart and fear drying out her mouth permitted her only to nod as she grabbed the three scrolls from the chest. She paused, intrigued at the sight of old letters and an old, worn book that looked like it had been repaired many times. The sound of grunts coming nearer however made the choice for her and she slammed the chest shut, slipping the gold chain quickly over her head as she turned to run out the tent after Morrigan

Morrigan leaped from the inside of the tent, seeming to transform and grow in mid leap into the form of a giant spider, and landing on top of an approaching Hurlock, driving her fangs into its corrupted flesh, silencing its death throes forever before turning and looking at the inside of the tent with an almost impatient look, and chattered loudly, as if telling the elf to hurry up. Artalise gulped and darted outside the tent, clambering up to the small area between the head and the bulbous end and grabbing a hold of the longest hairs she could find with her free hand, her other one grasping the scrolls close to her chest. Morrigan reared back and hissed at an approaching group of darkspawn, spitting out webbing that caught the first few and causing indecision in the rest. They never would reach a decision, however as Artalise hurled a fireball in their direction, all while clenching her legs tight around the spider's body to try to maintain her balance.

While that destroyed the group, in the distance more roars and grunts could be heard as the darkspawn realized that enemies were amongst them. Artalise pointed towards the gate that hung open, "That way!"

With a speed that surprised Artalise and made it difficult to maintain control of the scolls, Morrigan darted towards the opening as the darkspawn swarmed behind them.

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

Alistair sat up as he heard a loud crash and the sound of something very large approaching very quickly. His morning he had spent napping, avoiding thinking about the situation he now found himself, and in the early afternoon he had busied his mind by focusing on the cleaning and sharpening of his sword, given to him by Duncan….who he tried his best to avoid thinking about.

It was this sword that he grabbed as he stood up and looked into the thicket. In the shadows he saw brief glimpses of what approached, and his eyes widened in alarm as his sword came up, and he started to back towards the rear of the clearing.

A huge spider, the likes of which he had never seen before erupted from the brush. As fear-inducing as the spider was, however, he was even more taken aback by what he saw on the spider – a very much naked Artalise, who had something clutched close to her chest.

It was true that he hadn't been around women very often – his dealings with the fairer sex were few indeed. However, from all that stories he's been told he was pretty sure that these two seemed to have an unnatural obsession with being naked. Not that he really minded, but well….

Artalise slid off the spider's back and ran towards Alistair, seemingly _completely_ unaware of her current state of absolute undress and how that state was ever so heightened by her running towards him. _Maker help me, h_e thought dryly.

"Darkspawn approach! Morrigan will remain in her form; you need to get up there with her!"

He nodded his head curtly, darting to where his amour lay and slipping on his chainmail shirt and grabbing his shield. He would have preferred to wear his full splint mail amour, but unfortunately it lay drying in the sun and took too long for him to put on; he could already see the black forms of the darkspawn darting through the trees toward them. He then ran up to the side of the rather freaky looking spider quipping, "You know, I just have to say that that form _really_ suits you. Highlights your best features."

Morrigan let out a hiss at him, and looked like she wanted to do so much more but darkspawn could be heard crashing through the underbrush, nearly upon them. Alistair raised his shield and sword, rather disappointed that he was going to have to clean sharpen his sword again that evening.

Darkspawn blood had this nasty tendency of getting into crooks and crannies and absolutely refusing to be scrubbed out….

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_A.N. Expect a chapter update early next week, maybe Monday, Tuesday. Alas, I am finally suffering from some writer's block..._

___A.N. I drew a really shoddy picture (might have been better to have used stick figures!) of this final scene...check out my profile for a link to my deviant art page if you want to see it and laugh at my total lack of art skill. :)_


	11. Chapter 7:  Trail to Lothering

_A.N. Wow...you people like the dark and gritty, ehh? I'll have to remember that. :) This chapter is dedicated to: Arsinoe de Blassenville for their kind review...and to rhiannskye and ranma-tomoe for letting me know that they enjoy this story as well. Thanks so much! Unfortunately not every chapter can be as descriptive as the last one...I hope you find it still intriguing enough to read on though. I promise things will get better...! _

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Alistair wiped his sword across the body of genlock, grimacing as the slick black ichor merely smeared across the metal blade instead of being cleaned. He turned to look at Artalise, who was reappearing from the tree line, brushing dirt off of her yellow mage robes.

"I thought the plan was that the darkspawn were going to be kept at Ostagar." Alistair asked, an eyebrow arched, "When the plan was introduced, I don't remember a 'Oh hey, Alistair, also be prepared for an attack by darkspawn that we will lead directly to our campsite."

"Things… didn't go quite as planned."

"_Obviously_." He quipped with a crooked smile that soon disappeared as he saw the young mage staring off in the distance, her hand combing through her hair absently. His brows furrowed a little bit, "So, mmm, What happened there – at Ostagar?"

She started when she broke out of her reverie before looking over at him with a hollow look. "The Ferelden army was slaughtered. I've never seen so much death before." There was a silence between the two when she suddenly plastered a fake smile on her face and covered up the chaotic swirl of emotions she felt with a too-cheery voice "But more than that I am _terribly_ upset to see that my braids are gone. It takes me at least an hour to braid my hair appropriately. Morrigan said she doesn't know how to braid hair. I don't suppose you do?"

"Sadly, Templar training never taught me anything as useful as braiding hair."

Artalise sighed and then walked over to settle near the smoldering embers of the fire, concentrating on weaving the strands of her hair into her preferred intricate design. Whether she was focused on her braiding or remembering the apparent horrors she had just witnessed, Alistair wasn't sure. He watched her, getting the distinct feeling that there was much more to what had happened earlier in the day than what his fellow Warden was letting on. A glint off of her neck drew his attention. He walked a little bit closer, surprised at the appearance on a gold chain around the elf's neck.

"Have you always had that necklace?"

Artalise said nothing for a few moments as her fingers continued in their braiding, "No. I found it at Ostagar."

Now his attention really was piqued, "At Ostagar?"

"Mmm"

Maker's breath. This must have been what the Revered Mother had felt like when she was asking him questions about some prank he had pulled in his younger years.

Suddenly, she let her partially finished braid fall from her hands, as they both grabbed the chain instead, lifting it up over her head, and then she held a hand out with the chain in it to him, while she remained sitting with her face away from him, "This was Duncan's actually… I-I think you should have it instead." The change in her voice was subtle, but he could detect sorrow masked over by a strong attempt to hide it with bravery.

His eyes widened with sad surprise and he quickly knelt down in front of her, knowing by the way her eyes gazed at the ground what her answer was going to be to the question he asked, "You saw Duncan?"

"I saw…his body, yes"

He had known. From the moment the witch Flemeth had told him about the slaughter, he had known that Duncan was dead. But there had still been a part of him that had rebelled against all logic and reason and desperately clung onto the hope that somehow, someway, the old Grey Warden had found a way to live. Now though, that little flame was extinguished, and it truly felt like the sky was crashing down around him.

Suddenly he was aware of the cool feel of metal around his neck, and he looked down to see the chain with a small key laying against his chest. He had been so lost in thought that he hadn't even seen her hands move to place the chain on him. A trembling finger lightly touched the key. "This was….to his chest that held the treaties, I assume?"

Artalise nodded her head, " Should we find time to return to Ostagar later on, it may still be there. He kept some papers that might be of interest to us." She paused, looking downwards again in sorrow, "I also remember where his body is, should we be able to burn a proper pyre for him."

Alistair's jaws clenched, anger and frustration welling up in him at the fact that he would be unable to provide his beloved leader with a proper funeral until Maker knew when. That his body would just be left for the animals, or worse the darkspawn to nibble at. His hand balled into a fist, before unclenching when he was surprised to feel her delicate hands on his.

"There is nothing we can do. If we return to Ostagar now, it will be to certain death. He was a good man, and we shall never forget him, but let us honor him now by carrying on his task and ending this Blight." She said solemnly to him. Their gaze held for a few moments, before hers suddenly went upwards, and he heard the light crunch of boots on the ground and he suppressed a groan. Barely.

"And just _how_ do you two plan on ending this Blight?" asked Morrigan, looking down at the two Grey Wardens with some disgust. The evidence of some human emotion did not apparently sit well with her. _Emotionless Bitch_, he thought to himself.

Artalise cleared her throat, "I suppose we will pursue the treaties."

"And have you _read_ these treaties?"

Artalise blinked at Morrigan in surprise, "No… The darkspawn kind of distracted me." she retorted, as her hand reached over to one of them. She gingerly unrolled the ancient parchment and her eyes widened a little bit in surprise as she slowly read through the old, elaborate script. "This one is a treaty with the Circle…It bids the mages to help the Grey Wardens in times of the Blight."

Alistair had also taken one of the scrolls, and had a bit more difficulty understanding the ancient characters, "I believe...hmmm…. this one allows the Wardens to get help from… the dwarves…yes…."

While Alistair had read that one, Artalise had grabbed the last one, "And this one is for the elves"

"Dwarves, elves, and mages. Oh my." Morrigan smirked.

Alistair turned to look at Artalise, "Before we attempt to go after these allies, you know, trouncing around in lands we've never seen, I would suggest we seek the aid of Arl Eamon of Redcliffe. He is a good man, and he still retains his army. He may be able to give us some advice and provisions as well."

Artalise narrowed her eyes slightly, looking at Alistair with some suspicion, wondering what his angle was, but then she shrugged, "I suppose that makes sense. If you believe this man will truly help us."

Alistair nodded his head resolutely, "He was an uncle to King Cailan – once he hears of the Teyrn's treachery, he will most definitely choose to help us."

She arched an eyebrow, "Uncle to the king, hmm?" she commented quietly to herself.

"Might I make a suggestion of my own, then?" Morrigan asked, still looking down at the two Wardens, "There is a small , rather dreary village to the north called Lothering. 'Twould be a good place to get supplies, and perhaps learn about what happened at your Ostagar. Or what they _say_ happened."

"How many days journey is it?"

"'Twould be…perhaps 3, 4 days."

"Would it be on the Imperial Highway, by chance?", Alistair asked.

"'Twould indeed."

He turned to Artalise, " If we head west then, after Lothering, we'll head right towards Redcliffe."

Artalise shrugged, "Works for me, " she paused as she glanced up at the sky, "We still have some hours of light left. My vote is to head out now."

"Same."

"Agreed."

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

Artalise rolled her eyes as she unslung her own staff and slung Morrigan's onto her back. Alistair hadn't had an issue picking up Morrigan's clothes, but he had drawn the line at touching her staff. No amount of convincing him that it was just a piece of ornately carved wood would sway his belief that the staff was magical and would do something dire to him. Like turn him into a toad. Morrigan had looked on at this exchange with some amusement before she, in her wolf form, and loped off into the trees, under the premise that she would be able to detect danger easier with the heightened senses of the wolf. Plus, it gave her a good excuse to not be in Alistair's presence. The first hour of their traveling had been spent with those two constantly bickering at each other.

The elf shifted the staff around a little bit in an attempt to find a more comfortable position before extending her hand in front of her, "Shall we?"

Alistair paused a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but then decided against it and started walking on the path Morrigan had told them would lead them to Lothering.

They walked quietly for a little bit, before Alistair decided to break the silence, "So…what was it like riding a _giant_ spider?"

Artalise snorted, "If I hadn't had tens of darkspawn running towards me, there is no way I would have even touched her. In fact, I was tempted to run the other way screaming." She shuddered, "I _hate_ spiders… I'm the sort of girl who would eagerly use a full-blown fireball to destroy an spider who makes the mistake of entering into my presence."

"Well, it's good to know you won't be screaming my name to come running and kill a spider for you."

"Nope. Just have to worry about me burning down my own tent. Or setting the entire campsite on fire."

They took a few more steps, "Had you much riding experience before?"

Artalise shook her head, "No. Circle mage, remember?" she grinned, "This is the first time I've been out of the tower since I was brought there. The only animals I saw were the Tower's mousers and the occasional dead rat. Oh, and sometimes a random bird."

"Well, you seemed like a natural."

"It's amazing how realizing that if you fall you'd be ripped to shreds by darkspawn will keep you hanging on for dear life" She shook her head, smiling, "I feel bad for Morrigan. She must have some nasty bruises where I gripped her with my legs."

Alistair and Artalise continued to talk until the sun finally started to set. It was at that time that Morrigan emerged once more from the trees, flecks of blood on her snout. Artalise started to ask what had occurred, but the shapeshifter had merely flicked her tail, and turned and walked back into the woods, stopping and turning to look back at them for as if beckoning them to follow her.

They looked at each other before Artalise shrugged and they followed her, before coming into a small clearing, pleasantly surprised to see two rabbit carcasses lying near the center.

"'Twould be appreciated if you could hand me my clothing." They heard Morrigan say from behind them. Alistair instantly froze as he realized that Morrigan was naked behind him, causing Artalise to grin as she reached for Alistai'sr pack, tugging it down his shoulders so she could have easier access to it. After digging around for a few moments, she handed Morrigan's clothing back over to the woman, who took it and put it back on while smirking in Alistair's direction.

They then set about the schedule that they would repeat for the next couple of days – during the day, Artalise and Alistair would walk together as Morrigan loped off and did Maker only knew what. That left time enough for times of mindless chatter between the two Grey Wardens, but more often than not, periods of long silence when both were lost in their own thoughts, grieving for what they had lost and unsure of how exactly to proceed next. When the sun went down, Morrigan would mysteriously appear once more, and they would go about their unsaid evening routine. Alistair would skin the carcasses, Artalise would gather sticks for a fire, and Morrigan would hunt for herbs and vegetables. The evening would then see Morrigan and Artalise discussing theories of magic and talk philosophically of historical topics that Alistair seemed to pretty much tuned out as he either sharpened his sword or cleaned his armor. Then, shifts would be decided, with the one who got the middle shift grumbling the loudest.

On the third night, Morrigan announced that the next morning they should be arriving at Lothering. The other two members of the party were much relieved- the nights and mornings of game meat and root vegetables was starting to wear on them.

Alistair arched an eyebrow after Morrigan broke to them the news, "Not to seem too…prudish or something, but are you planning on wearing _that_?"

Morrigan scoffed at him, "You find issue with my choice of clothing, templar?"

"Only in the fact that it practically _screams_ apostate."

"Alistair does have a point, I think. Your choice of clothing is rather...unconventional" Artalise tried to put it delicately. It didn't work.

Morrigan slammed down her dinner bowl, and then got up and glared down at the two of them, "Oh? After leading you two through the Wilds, _ambush-free_, this is what it has come down to? Critiquing my choice of clothing?" Her narrowed eyes focused on both her companions, "I shall take first watch." She stated before storming off to the tree line, presumably to take on her wolf form.

Artalise and Alistair exchanged a glance. "Somebody's touchy" he quipped.

She looked over to where Morrigan had disappeared to and sighed, but said nothing.

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

The next day was bright and beautiful, and the change in scenery was welcomed as they started to see signs of civilization again. Alistair was regaling Artalise with tales about some of the Grey Wardens he knew when a black blur suddenly caught their attention. Alistair withdrew his sword and readied his shield, and Artalise gripped her staff with both hands. Morrigan had never approached them like this before- It could only mean something was wrong. When she was a few feet in front of them she morphed back into her human form, gasping for breath and pointing behind her, "A mabari approaches, trailed by darkspawn!"

At that moment they could hear they could hear the sound of a dog barking, and muffled grunts, and it wasn't long before a large mabari ran around the corner, barking eagerly when he saw the group, before running to Artalise's side, looking up and wagging his tail at her, before then turning around and growling in the direction of the quickly approaching darkspawn.

"Looks like you have a new friend!" Alistair quipped as he charged towards the hurlocks, followed closely by the hound. The air sizzled with power as Morrigan and Artalise cast their spells and the smell of burnt fetid flesh soon tickled their nostrils.

The darkspawn group that had followed the hound was small, and the fight was over quickly. Alistair was uninjured, except for some bruises, though the hound had some deeper cuts on him. He seemed unconcerned as he pranced over to Artalise, his tongue lolling out and his tail wagging happily. Artalise hesitantly extended a hand out to gingerly pet the top of his head, which made him let out a happy bark.

"Yeah. He's definitely imprinted on you." Alistair said with a smile as he looked down at the hound, "They say that mabari are an excellent judge of character"

"Which says _what _about you, then?" Morrigan quipped from behind them both.

Alistair made a concerted effort _not_ to look behind him as he knew very much the state of her undress , "You'd be included in that too, I think"

"_I_ do not have any dealings with domesticated wolves. Thus, there would be no chance for them to do this _imprinting_ thing you speak of. You however have been surrounded by these mongrels your entire life and never had one imprint on you, hmm?"

"Ah….Yes, well…you see….but…." Alistair started before he gave up and busied himself with looting the corpses of the darkspawn.

Morrigan smirked, then turned her attention to Artalise, "I have thought about what you said. 'Tis true, though I am loathe to admit that Alistair has made a perceptive statement. I will stay in my wolf form until suitable clothing is made available." Her eyes narrowed a little, "I will trust your judgment in this. If I end up looking like a cow in a robe, I will have no choice but to go about in my own outfit."

Artalise grinned, and nodded her head.

"Oh. And keep that beast away from me. I do not appreciate its leers."

Artalise arched an eyebrow, for a moment thinking she was talking about Alistair, but when she saw Morrigan pointing at the mabari and the hound whining a little, she found it hard to suppress a giggle, merely nodding her head instead in acknowledgement. She soon head the sound of Morrigan loping off into the woods , and she grinned down at the panting hound.

"Well…shall we get a move on, then?"

He let out an eager bark.

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~~~V~V~V~~~

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_A.N. - My muse was kinder to me than I thought! I thought I was going to be able to cover the trip to Lothering and Lothering itself in one chapter, but it will take 2 because I really don't like going over 3000 words for a chapter. Any opinions on this matter?_

_A.N. - Any other writers have as much trouble thinking about creative ways to deal with Lothering as I do? Ugh. I do not like that little village *at all*_


	12. Chapter 8: Village of Lothering

_A.N - This chapter is longer than usual because, well...it deals with Lothering and as I stated before I REALLY REALLY didn't like writing about this village, and I just wanted to get it over with in one chapter. I hate running my character through it too in fact...But hopefully I dealt with it in a different enough way to make it somewhat interesting. I know it might seem a little bit rushed...but well, that's because it *is* I've got some interesting ideas (at least to me) for stuff down the road, and I really wanted to get there quickly... So it's only going to go up from here (I hope!)_

_A.N. - Dedications go out to Arsinoe de Blassenville and kirbster676 (whom, BTW, really should write a one-shot on the fantastic idea they had for how to deal with Lothering!) Dedication also to shiyo-chan and socorro for liking how this story is unfolding as well. :) So glad to hear people out there are enjoying this first attempt at FF!_

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~~~V~V~V~~~

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"Morrigan, you did not lie when you said this was a small, dreary village" Artalise quipped at the large black wolf who was currently licking some blood off of her claws. She peered over the wall of the Imperial Highway, pursing her lips together.

Clearly the place was currently overcrowded. The air stunk of people and refuse, and the area closest to the ramp down into the village lead directly to an area filled with tents and what appeared to be refugees. A tall tower rose in the distance, the highest building around for miles. Clearly that was the Chantry, and a place Artalise would prefer to avoid. She didn't have a hatred of the place, but given her current situation, and the fact that she was traveling with an apostate made her hesitant to risk her luck.

"The Blight really does bring out the best in people, doesn't it?" Alistair commented as he wiped off his sword on one of the dead "tax collectors."

"Mmm." Artalise agreed as she scratched the head of her mabari, whom she had decided to name Oak. He didn't seem to mind the name. After searching the bodies and nearby bags for any interesting loot, each pocketing a few coins, they finally walked down the ramp. As they did so, Artalise could feel their questioning eyes on her. Maybe she should have gotten rid of her mage robes, as, now that she thought about it, they were just as foreign as Morrigan's preferred outfit.

"Hey now…jus' who migh' you all be?" called out a rough looking man who leaned against an old column. He approached the group. Artalise and Alistair turned their heads to look at the man. They then both exchanged glances, confirming silently that they had to be on their guard.

"Just travelers, making our way to Redcliffe." Alistair responded. It was a true enough statement.

The suspicion did not leave the man's look, in fact it only deepened as he inspected their clothing. "Since when does a mere _traveler_ have the coin to afford a full suit of armor. And when does a knife-ear have the money to afford such an outfit?"

Artalise burned at the insult, and it took all her willpower not to cast a fireball at the man. She nudged Alistair ever so gently. This was going to be totally on him as she realized would have to play the part of docile elf servant.

Alistair gave her a startled look and then it slowly dawned on him that everything was on his shoulders. _Oh dear._

"One can never have too much protection, hmm?"

"An' your elf-"

"I thought the robe highlighted her eyes."

"The mabari?"

"A stray we picked up?"

"An' the wolf?"

" The…ahh….mabari's female friend?"

The man looked unimpressed, and folded his arms across his chest, "An' the blood you all have splattered o'er yourselves?"

"Surely you were aware of the bandits up there? A man has a right to defend himself doesn't he?"

"That's a lot of blood."

"…There were a lot of bandits..."

The man snorted but said nothing. He seemed particularly interested in the fact that Artalise was carrying two rather ornately carved staffs but he said nothing about them. He focused his stare back on Alistair.

"You may wish to talk with the Chantry Templar, Ser Bryant, then. He was offering a reward to whomever drove the bandits out." He then looked away from the group, as if dismissing them.

Alistair breathed a sigh of relief as he walked up to Artalise as she start to head somewhere, anywhere other than near that man. "My vote is for getting out of this village as soon as possible, Chantry reward be damned. That man gave me the creeps."

Artalise nodded softly, "Agreed. But, at the very least, shall we see if village offers any food? What I wouldn't give for a piece of bread!"

"Or a slice of cheese" Alistair added, just as hungrily.

They were unable to take more than a few steps when the man they had been talking too, suddenly spoke up, and what he said caused the two Wardens to stop and stare back at him.

"Just a word to the wise _travelers_. Teyrn Loghain has offered a generous reward to anyone who can bring him one of those traitors who betrayed the King - The Grey Wardens." He smiled crookedly at them, "Should you come across any during your travels, of course, 'twould be good to keep in mind, hmm?"

Artalise was in shock, but she quickly masked it, remembering to focus her eyes on the ground like she had seen so many of her servant brethren do. She could however see Alistair flush with anger, his eyes flashing. The man arched an eyebrow and merely nodded to himself as if he had confirmed something. He turned his head to face the ramp leading down to Lothering once more, and Artalise did her best to drag Alistair away.

"Betrayers? The Grey Wardens?" Alistair muttered under his breath.

Artalise put an arm on his shoulder, trying to calm him down, "Calm yourself! That man was no simple farmer asking simple questions. He now knows what we are. I think we should be quick in leaving this place."

From below her Morrigan nodded her head in agreement with what Artalise was saying, though her attention was obviously somewhere else. Artalise peered in the direction Morrigan was staring and saw a nondescript youth lounging in the shade of one of the chanteys. Artalise shrugged and started walking in the direction her nose told her was the nearest place with some food, Alistair and mabari following closely behind. Apparently they weren't the only ones who desired to get to the inn quickly- Artalise nearly fell to the ground as a young elf boy shoved her out of his way as he darted apparently to the inn.

"Hey!" Alistair called out after him, but the elf boy didn't seem to notice. Oak growled and obviously wanted to go after him, but Artalise kept him back. She merely dusted off her robe and mumbled something to herself before the group resumed their walk towards the inn.

The instant she opened the door she wished she had decided to just leave this Maker forsaken village. Near the door waited several well armored and armed men who eyed her suspiciously. The apparent leader dropped a note he had held in his hand onto the table and sauntered over to them. The elf boy who had so recently shoved Artalise aside darted back out the door. Apparently he had been a messenger.

Alistair paused a moment when he finally made it through the door. He knew these men, "I recognize the leader. He's one of Loghain's men." He whispered to her, his hands moving towards his sword and shield, knowing what the eventual outcome of this meeting would be.

"So. My man tells me you two are just mere travelers?" He asked, smiling crookedly, his voice laced with amusement.. News apparently travelled quickly in this village.

The leader's eyes widened in recognition when he saw Alistair, "Ah, but apparently that is not the case? I recognize you!" he sneered as he pointed straight at Alistair, "I saw you next to your leader – the very man who lead the betrayal of King Cailan!" he started to withdraw his sword.

"Stop!" came a shout and out came running a young Chantry Sister, stepping between the two groups, "How dare you accuse and attack these innocent travelers!" she shouted as she spun around to confront the Teyrn's soldiers. If all eyes of those in the tavern weren't focused on the scene before, they surely turned to watch with rapt attention then. Would the soldiers actually strike one who wore Chantry robes?

The leader pointed an angry finger at Alistair again, "This man serves the one who betrayed and killed King Cailan – I was there at Ostagar with Teyrn Loghain – I saw with my very own eyes their treachery!"

"Funny, because where Duncan and King Cailan stood it probably look like treachery when the Teyrn left them to die at the hands of the darkspawn!" Alistair spat back, anger getting the better of him. How dare they blame the King's death on the Grey Wardens – all but the two of them whom had been slaughtered fighting alongside the King as the Teyrn's men left without swinging a sword.

There would be no more talking. The leader withdrew his sword fully, as did his other men and they charged at the group. Oak and Alistair became a wall in front of Artalise as she made Alistair's sword flicker with flames. Curiously, the Sister had also withdrawn daggers and was fighting off one of the Teyrn's soldiers. The door behind Artalise suddenly slammed open once more and in leapt a huge black wolf, snarling and causing some of the men to fall back for a moment in fright. Amber eyes flashed onto one of them and she leapt at him, teeth tearing at his throat.

The leader saw his men start to fall around him, and the distraction made it easy for Alistair to disarm him. The moment he was about to run him through though, the sister's voice called out again, "Wait – these men are defeated. Show them mercy!"

Alistair looked over at the sister with surprise, but the defeated leader grabbed a hold of the idea, "Please! My men and I give up…Just…let us get on our way…."

Alistair held his sword up to the man's throat, flames still licking the sleek metal and causing the leader to wince, "And to where will you be going? Back to Loghain? To report on us?"

The man opened his mouth as if to answer, but then shut it again just as quickly.

Artalise pursed her lips together, before dispelling Alistair's weapon, causing the man to let out a sigh of relief, "Let them go. Let Loghain be aware that we are coming for him." Her eyes narrowed at the leader of the Teyrn's men, "I have returned to Ostagar and I have seen the results of the Teyrn's treachery. Let him know that we shall come for him, and he shall pay."

Alistair flicked his sword towards the door and the surviving guards carried out their injured in as quick a manner as possible. Artalise then knelt beside Oak, examining him for wounds before directing her power towards the knitting up of the few slashes he had endured.

She looked up though, when she heard the chantry sister take a few hesitant steps towards them, bowing her head, "The Maker will thank you for your mercy."

Morrigan made a sound that sounded almost like a scoff, a peculiar noise to hear coming from a wolf. Artalise smiled tightly, "Perhaps. Thank you for your help Sister. I just hope we do not live to regret the mercy shown here today." She turned and resumed her healing of Oak, knowing Morrigan, with a jagged slice near her neck was eager for healing as well. Artalise looked up with a start, however, when she heard what the woman had to say next, "I wish to join your party."

Alistair arched an eyebrow, "You wish to travel with us mere travelers?"

The woman arched an eyebrow back, "I do not think you are _mere_ travelers, yes? And I think you will need as much help as you can get, and so I would like to offer my services."

"Your services, Sister? We appreciate the offer, but we have no need for sermons. Now please, leave us be. I need to heal my companions" Artalise spoke crisply as she turned her attention to Morrigan's wound, focusing and watching it knit together. There was a faint murmuring coming from the other patrons, she assumed in part due to the growing realization that she was no elf servant but one of the Circle of Magi. Or at least, she was. Once.

"You have seen what I can do. I am good with daggers and a bow- I can protect myself. Please, let me join you." The Sister asked again, earnestly.

Artalise pursed her lips together, and she heard Alistair shift his weight uneasily behind her. Her eyes, however suddenly focused on the braids the woman had in her hair and she stood up to get a better look. Her eyes widened, "Oh? Can you braid hair?"

The other woman blinked, apparently surprised at the sudden turn in questions, "Ye…yes…I am…well known in this Chantry for my braiding abilities, actually."

Artalise grinned and nodded her head, "Your name then, Sister?"

"Leliana. And I am not a full Sister…just a lay sister. And…I have already left the Chantry here."

Artalise arched an eyebrow at the last statement, but then she shrugged. It didn't matter much to her, "You are welcome to join us if you so wish, then Leliana."

Leliana's face lit up and it looked like she was going to respond when Alistair suddenly pulled Artalise aside, "So…. let me get this straight. You are letting a lay sister come with us based on nothing but her hair styling abilities?"

"No – you saw what she did. She has skill with her daggers, and if she is as good with a bow as she says, I am sure Morrigan would appreciate a night off from hunting every once in a while. Maker knows with your skill with a bow we'd probably starve." She grinned as she brushed her hand along one of her now ragged braids "The braiding ability was just an unexpected surprise."

Alistair rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders, not understanding her reasoning fully but deciding not to concern himself with it. By the slight growl and glare from Morrigan though, Artalise knew the other mage disapproved. Thankfully, it was relatively easy to ignore her in her wolf form. She turned back to the newest member of their party, "Tell me then, Leliana. Is the food here any good?"

"_When_ they have any food here, yes, it is. The refugees make that a rare occurence."

Artalise sighed disappointingly, as did Alistair. So much for a meal then, for as she looked around she noticed the only thing that seemed full were mugs of ale. She turned to leave when her attempt at moving was interrupted by a "Wait!" She groaned inwardly, but turned to watch a rather disturbed man walk up to them. She guessed it was the innkeeper by the way he looked disgusted at the blood splatters on the table, as if he was calculating how much time and coin it would take to clean everything up.

"Is what those men said true then?" He asked, he asked in a hushed voice.

"Is what true?" Artalise asked, hesitantly

"That you are…." He lowered his voice even more, "Grey Wardens?"

Artalise looked at him intently for a few moments, wondering if he would prove to by ally or foe. Cautiously she nodded her head.

The man suddenly broke out into a smile, "Glad to hear it! Otherwise I'd ask you to pay for this mess," he spread his arms wide to emphasize his disgust with the sight. He turned to look at Artalise and Alistair, "My grandpa served in the Order. I'll have you know that no few amount of us respect what you Wardens do, and won't believe those rumors started by Teyrn Loghain's men." He paused, before motioning them towards his counter, "I don't have much to give you, but Terra back there just finished baking some fresh loaves. I imagine you'd like one, hmm?"

Artalise grinned and eagerly walked over to the counter as the innkeeper wrapped the loaf of bread up and handed it over to her while saying, "Now if I may, I'd advise you hurry up and head out of Lothering. The soldiers you saw in here weren't the only ones here. Wouldn't surprise me if that leader you spared went to find his friends."

Artalise nodded her head and slapped some silver coins onto the table with a smile, and waved off his protests. "We thank you." She stated, before she turned and followed the rest of her party outside.

The sun was starting to set, and they would have all preferred to have had the possibility of spending the night in an actual bed, but if what the innkeeper said was true, they had best head out.

The back way towards the Imperial Highway appeared less crowded than the way they had originally entered. Alistair apparently had had the same idea as he was leading the small group towards that area. However, their attention was soon drawn to a large being in a cage that barely fit him, and this pause allowed Artalise to catch up with them. The being looked unconcerned as he continued his apparent meditation, "_Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Maraas shokra. Anaan esaam Qun"_

Leliana had a sad look on her eyes as she watched the…qunari, Artalise realized when she looked closer. A race she had read about, due mostly to her fascination that it was to the mages, the very same people the Chantry keeps locked away, that the Chantry turned when all else seemed lost to the invading Qunari centuries ago.

"This….man…is a murderer. He has the blood of many innocents on his hands. The Reverend Mother has condemned him to stay in this cage until the darkspawn comes." Leliana offered softly, as a means of explanation.

The qunari had stopped his recitations as the party had surrounded him but still had his eyes closed. Artalise's eyes narrowed as she approached, "Greetings."

His eyes opened and he looked at her, his expression emotionless. "You are not one of my keepers. Nor do you seem to intend to toss excrement at me. Why then do you bother me?"

Artalise's eyes flickered to where she saw the leader of the Teyrn's soldiers appear over the bridge and started to walk towards the tavern. Time was running short.

"My name is Artalise, a Grey Warden. Why are you here?"

A flicker of recognition of the title Grey Warden passed over his face, but it soon went emotionless again, "The human woman has already told you why."

"Why did you do it?"

"My reasons are my own."

"Artalise…you may want to hurry this up…the soldiers will be realizing we aren't in the inn sooner rather than later…" Alistair said nervously, keeping an eye apparently on the inn's door.

"Do you accept this punishment?"

"I have no other choice."

"You could come with us. Help us with ending the Blight."

"You would set me free?"

"Not free, no. But I will give you a chance to meet an honorable death outside a cage rather than die like a coward inside of one."

There was a pause as he thought this over, "How do you know you can trust my words? Don't your people consider me a murderer?"

"I have read books on the Qunari – yours is an honorable race. I will trust in you if you give me your word"

The man was silent again for a few moment, before he nodded his head "If my keepers will let me go, I will give you my word that I will serve your cause."

Behind him she saw the tavern door swing open and out poured the larger group of soldiers lead by the angry leader from Ostagar. She heard a muffled shout as one of the men saw where they were and alerted his companions as well. The faint sound of metal being unsheathed soon reached the Grey Wardens group's ears. _So much for mercy, _Artalise thought. She spun around and held a hand out to Leliana "Give me your dagger!"

The sister looked wide eyed as she handed over one of her daggers. Flames suddenly started to lick the blade and Artalise pressed the dagger against the lock, the heat from the dagger easily melting through the metal of the lock.

The rapidly approaching men of Loghain looked over with alarm as the giant of a man stepped out of his cage and stretched, before he turned and faced Teyrn Loghain's soldiers with a deadly serious look on his face. However, as intimidating as the qunari was, it was unable to stop them in their tracks like what happened next.

Morrigan, apparently tired of the taste in blood in her mouth strode out to an area that was clearly visible to the men who were intent on killing them all. There, she transformed back into human shape, in all her unclothed glory. She arched her back slightly, heightening the erotic nature of her pose, as a slight breeze lazily caressed her hair. Not a man who saw her was able to take their eyes off her, until, that is, Alistair and the mabari hound crashed into their front lines and a fireball lit up the lines in the back. Artalise misjudged the distance a little bit, watching Alistair and Oak tumble back with the rest of the Teyrn's men. She mumbled an apology as she sent small tendrils of healing power to each, first Oak and then the armored templar. The pause in action had given Sten enough time to reach the battle, where he then grabbed the sword off a dazed man and with one strong swipe of his sword cleaved the man's head off, showering his allies with the pulsing red blood.

Morrigan's own eyes searched through the crowd before she saw him – the one whom they had shown mercy to and had disobeyed them. She smiled, weaving a hex over the man, unbeknownst to him, before pulling his very life force out of him, gasping in pleasure as she had it fill her instead. The leader crumpled to the ground, his eyes in shock before she could see no more as the hound fell upon him.

The battle was soon over, especially once the men saw their leader fall. But they would be shown no mercy this time. The humans, qunari, and elf were soon searching through their corpses, and were often thrilled at the amount of silver found, as well as the occasional vial of health potion.

Artalise looked over at the newest addition to the party, watching him for a moment as he swung a large sword he had found on one of the bodies, she assumed to test its weight and balance. She had seen the Templars in the Circle do that from time to time when one of them had bought a new weapon and wanted to show it off. She slowly walked over, and stopped staying well without the distance of the sword's arcs. He stopped when he saw her standing there, and he looked over at her, not saying a word. Apparently it was on her to begin the conversation.

"I…I never caught your name."

He paused as he flipped the blade is in hand, nodding appreciatively to it, "My name is unimportant, but you may call me Sten." Artalise opened her mouth to continue, when a voice calling our her name stopped her.

"Artalise!" Leliana said urgently as she came across the two of them. Artalise turned to look at the other woman with some curiosity.

"Yes?"

Leliana pointed towards the village, "Many within the village believe the story told by Teyrn Loghain- and what is more they believe in the money to be had if they kill you. What you have done to the guards will only confirm to them that you betrayed the King, and thus deserve to die even more….They will come after you. There is already too much movement in the village…they are rallying themselves. Please, let us leave now before we must kill innocents."

"You would consider townspeople who would attack us _innocent_? If they attack us after what occurred to these men of Loghain, they deserve to meet their end." Morrigan said as she sauntered up to the group, her hands assuring the proper fitting of her clothing.

"They are driven to do what they do by hunger. These people are deprived of so much – a few sovereigns is more than most families will see in generation." Leliana said, her hands adding emphasis to her words.

"Is it not hunger that drives most people to do the evil they do? Hunger for food, hunger for power, hunger for money…'tis all the same and all leads to the same."

Leliana just looked at the other woman, at a loss for words for someone who held such a drastically different worldview than her apparent own.

"Enough. We will leave Lothering now. Alistair has said it will take only 5 or 6 days to reach Redcliffe. We can live off what we have and find until that point." Artalise stated, not wanting her party to fall into disarray so soon after they gained much needed members.

Morrigan looked slightly disappointed, but said nothing as the group turned and left little Lothering to whatever fate the Maker willed.

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_A.N. College starts for me next week...so I am debating whether or not to stockpile some chapters for release while school is going on...or I could publish them sooner rather than later. 2 are already done, and a third is nearly so...any opinions? :)_

_A.N. - As always, reviews and critiques are valued and *always* make my day so much better. _


	13. Chapter 9: Desperate Times

_A.N. So I felt kinda guilty just posting a chapter that I wasn't too happy with...so as consolation I've decided to post Chapter 9 before going silent for a couple of days as I hammer out for sure the next little section of plot...*evil cackle* I'm rather pleased with what I have so far, so once I post it, I hope you all will be too...now, I'll stop with the teasing and allow you all to read this next section. I hope you enjoy it!_

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~~~V~V~V~~~

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The first few miles after Lothering found the small party on high alert for an ambush by Loghain loyalists, but as the miles wore on and the sun finally began to set, the party started to relax a little bit. Before that, however, Alistair had pulled Artalise aside soon after they had left Lothering, and asked her if she really thought taking on a murderer and a former Chantry laysister was a good idea. Clearly, he did not.

"Who are we to say no to aid, whatever form it comes in?" She had replied.

"Yes….but….we don't _know_ these people…How can we trust them?"

"Do you _know_ many people in this world who are willing to help us?" Artalise asked, her tone sharp as she knew exactly who he would first think about- the Grey Wardens, of whom they were the only two left in Ferelden alive. The few friends he had made during Templar training would be unable to leave their duties, nor would any mages from the Circle whom Artalise knew be able to join them.

Suddenly, the name of the man they were going to meet popped into his head "Arl Eamon. We _can_ trust him. He _will _help us."

"And when was the last time you saw this Arl Eamon?" she asked innocently enough. She wanted to believe the days spent traveling to this Arl would not prove fruitless, but the recent events had shattered her trust in anyone outside the people she had shed blood with.

Silence was her sole answer for a few steps, "Over 10 years", he said quietly.

She nodded her head, "People can change a lot. I've read stories of Teyrn Loghain, Hero of the River Dane. The man King Maric trusted above all others…and looked what happened to his son. Betrayed by his father's best friend and most loyal advisor."

Alistair's face slowly grew to a frown as he processed what she was saying, "Wait…are you hinting that Arl Eamon might not help us? That he may betray us?"

"I thought it was more obvious than merely hinting."

Alistair sliced the air in front of him as he spoke, "No, no, no! He is a good man. I _know_ him…I-" he trailed off as if he realized he had said too much on a topic he was trying to avoid. Artalise seized on this.

"You _know_ him? As in you have actually met the man, or you have heard rumors of him?"

Alistair's brows crumpled up as he tried to figure out how much he was going to say. Finally he let out a sigh, giving up an trying to hide facts and just let the truth be known, "I…lived with him. Until I was ten, and was sent to the Chantry."

"Were your parents servants of his?"

"My mother was."

"Ah. I see. It's good to know that you'll have a personal connection with him then, I suppose" Artalise responded, and was content to let the subject drop. Alistair apparently had more to say.

"My…father wasn't, though. A servant. Of Redcliffe. " He continued on hesitantly, watching her out of the corner of her eyes as if judging her reaction.

"Oh?" She asked, deciding that he was making small talk and now was the time when they were going to talk about their parents. Too bad she wasn't going to have much to say on her part….

"My father…was…ahhh…King Maric." He practically whispered.

It took a few steps her Artalise to realize the gravity of what Alistair had just said, "So. You are not just any old bastard. You're a royal one?"

Alistair snorted, "Yes, I suppose that is an accurate description."

She brought a hand to her temple, rubbing it to ease an approaching headache, "Why were you at Arl Eamon's estate then?"

"My mother was a servant of the Arl. She died while giving birth to me, and the Arl looked after me until I was sent away to the chantry. Can't say I fared much better than most orphans though – most nights I slept in the stables or with the hounds."

Artalise cocked her head a little at this statement, "Slept in the stables? I thought most bastards would receive a noble's education and at the very least slept in a proper bed."

Alistair shrugged, "Well, I can tell you from personal experience that I very much slept in the stables. I usually had clean hay, so that was a luxury, I suppose."

A few more steps were taken before the silence between the two was broken once more, "Is there a reason why you were sent to the Chantry instead of kept at the Arl's castle?"

Alistair laughed a little, as if bemused by a thought, "Oh, there was a reason. Arl Eamon married an Orlesian who was offended by the rumors that I was the Arl's bastard. Eventually she wore him down enough to get him to send me away. Apparently the rumors stopped soon after." He grinned, "Out of sight, out of mind."

"How did the Arl feel about it?"

"Oh, I think he felt guilty about it. He knew that I was willing to go _anywhere_ but the Chantry. I was more than happy to continue sleeping in the stables. He came to visit me a couple of times…but I refused to see him. Last time I saw him I even threw my mother's amulet against the wall, shattering it. He never came back after that." He frowned and sighed.

Artalise couldn't think of anything to say in response, so she just let silence pass over them for a few minutes as they both listened to attempts of Leliana to get Sten to talk more about his past. She was failing miserably.

"Would you like this to change anything?" She asked bluntly, feeling that the emotion from the previous statement had passed. Now on to practical matters.

"No!" he practically shouted, wincing as he drew the shocked glances of the other party members. He lowered his voice as he continued his response, "No. I am perfectly content to…have things remain as they are. I am…perfectly happy to follow your lead, as it were."

Artalise arched an eyebrow, "Oh? This is a delightful twist. A templar, following the leadership of a _mage_." She grinned.

Alistair rolled his eyes, "Maker's breath – how many times do I have to say that I am not an actual Templar- I am merely Templar _trained_." He crossed his arms, and eyed her sideways, "But if it makes you feel any better, I suppose you can phrase it like that."

She grinned, "Oh believe me – it very much does."

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

They had been traveling for two and a half days- Alistair estimated they were halfway to Redcliffe- when suddenly Oak starting growling and running further up the road. This was odd behavior from the mabari, and the two Grey Wardens exchanged glances before picking up a jog, causing the three other members to do the same. As they did they soon heard the grunts of darkspawn interspersed with distraught yells from a deep voice and the barking from Oak.

As they rounded the bend, they saw the large cart pulled by two oxen preferred by Ferelden merchants being surrounded by a group of no more than 6 darkspawn. A young dwarf stood in front of an older dwarf and was swiping the air in front of him, warning the darkspawn to come no closer as four others closed in around Oak. All eyes became focused on them as suddenly Alistair and Sten charged into the fray, their weapons raised and thirsty for blood.

The battle was soon over – Sten had a few gashes due to his lack of armor, but Artalise was able to heal those easily. While she was doing so, the older dwarf approached Alistair, "Seems the Stone still finds some favor with me, to be sending a group of capable travelers like yourself out this way to save a merchant like myself. Name's Bodahn, and this here is my son, Sandal."

Sandal looked down shyly, a blush emerging on his face as Artalise approached. Bodahn gave him a nudge, "Where are your manners, my boy? At least say hello to our Stone-sent saviors?"

"Hello…" He mumbled, his blush intensifying as Morrigan and Leliana walked up as well, though they were more interested in the contents of the cart than the conversation that was occurring.

Bodahn didn't miss out on the eager interest the two women displayed either. "Well, I don't have it set up very nicely, but feel free to have a look around. If you see something that strikes your fancy, well, it's the least I can do for you saving our lives."

Everyone grinned at that news and starting opening chests and looking at the various treasures within. Even solemn Sten joined in, though he had a look of concentration on his face as if looking for something specific.

Artalise decided to take this time to gather information. "Where are you coming from, Bodahn?"

The dwarf let out a sad sigh, "Redcliffe. Usually I make a good amount of silver there. Not anymore."

That grabbed Alistair's attention, and he immediately walked over to them, a small ornately carved dragon statue in his hand, "Wait, what's this about Redcliffe?"

Bodahn crossed his arms and bounced a little on his legs nervously, "Don't suppose this means you were planning on heading that way, does it?"

Artalise nodded her head warily, "That is where we were going, actually…Di-"

"What happened there? What's wrong with Redcliffe?" Alistair broke in, his face stitched with worry.

"Sorry to hear that, sorry to hear that. The ahh…village has come under attack by the walking dead every night. They come from the Castle, apparently. There's a Bann there right now…what was his name…a Bann…Teagan – Yes! That's it….This Bann Teagan turned me away right when I crossed over that bridge there. Asked me to spread the word of the crisis to anyone who might be able to help." He looked over the group approvingly, "Looks like I've done that hmm?."

Alistair had put his hands to his the sides of his head and had walked away a few feet, staring into the woods as he tried to process what he had just heard. Artalise watched him for a moment, before turning back to the dwarven trader, "Any news of Arl Eamon himself?"

Bodahn nodded his head gravely, "'Fraid so. Apparently before the dead started coming down from the castle, the Arl had been struck down by a mysterious illness. Even a mage from the Circle wasn't able to cure the man. Word is the Arl's wife, a devout woman it would seem, sent the Arl's knights out on a mission to find something called 'Andraste's Ashes'" He shrugged, "You might know more about that than I."

"But no one knows where the Urn lies!" Leliana said as she admired some ornately carved amulets ordained with various symbols of Andraste.

The dwarf shrugged again, "Just saying what I've heard on the road, miss. Take it for what it's worth."

Artalise nodded her head before asking, "Where are you heading?"

"Think I'll make the journey up to Denerim, stopping by the Brecilian Forest of course to see if any of them Dalish tribes in the area might be looking to trade. I just came from Orzammar, and the elves down there seem to be partial to dwarven craft. Willing to pay a premium for it, they are." He grinned.

"Just came from Orzammar? Tell me, we will be heading there eventually- is it difficult to get to?"

He arched an eyebrow, "Oh really? Don't suppose you'd be willing to tell a curious merchant why?"

When he saw her shake her head he grinned knowingly, "Aye, keep your secrets then, I will not pry. But getting to Orzammar is a relatively easy thing to do – you take the Imperial Highway 'round the western shore of Lake Calenhad then follow up the well-worn road there through Gherlen's Pass. Though if you want some friendly advice, I'd suggest not to go in winter. The Pass has a nasty habit of acquiring snow a few feet too deep for easy passage."

Artalise smiled in thanks and was about to ask another question when Sten broke in, his piercing gaze focused in on the dwarf. Bodahn didn't seem intimidated in the slightest, "Have you come across a Qunari blade, dwarf?"

The merchant blinked a couple of times in surprise, before rubbing his chin as he thought about his goods, "A Qunari blade, you say? Hmm…I've come across one or two in my travels, but I saw those years ago. Don't suppose you would be talking about those...?" Bodahn arched an eyebrow inquiringly.

"No." Sten said simply as he walked off away from the group.

"Interesting fellow. I must say….I beg your pardon, but I never caught your name?" Bodahn asked, looking at Artalise.

"Artalise. Artalise Surana."

"Pleasure. Now as I was saying, I must say Artalise that you travel with a rather strange assortment of people. Most interesting group I've yet seen on the road."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures, as the saying goes, " she quipped.

"Ha! They do indeed!" He laughed.


	14. Chapter 10:  Call For

_A.N. Many thanks to Arsinoe de Blassenville for their kind reviews (and for writing such an interesting story as "The Keening Blade"!) Also dedications to DarkWatch351 for letting me know how much they enjoy the story as well. :)_

_A.N. This is a bit of a transitions chapter - just getting the characters to the real exciting areas. I hope its somewhat interesting! I'll post the next chapter either tomorrow or Sunday...It comes only after my "Return to Ostagar" chapter for favs to write. :)_

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

The pace of the party picked up immensely after leaving the dwarf merchant and his son. Alistair refused to stop walking until the moon was high in the sky, their footing aided by glowing orbs of fire that Artalise and Morrigan were able to call to them.

At the end of the fourth day of walking they had to literally beg Alistair to agree to stop for night. The moon was already heading back towards the horizon and both Artalise and Leliana were dragging their feet along. Morrigan, had, of course, changed into her usual traveling form miles ago. Artalise had vowed earlier that day that she would soon learn a form to travel in as well. She had pondered using the raven form, but when she had been in the Tower she had often sat by the barred off windows, gazing at the birds that would float across the lake lazily. From time to time some large bird, perhaps a hawk or an eagle, would harass the black birds. She had laughed with excitement at the time…but the thought of a bird of prey considering her to be a meal dissuaded her from transforming into a raven. When she had told Morrigan that ravens and crows were one of the most frequent birds she had watched, Morrigan had smiled in realization and nodded her head. She had been wondering how Artalise had learned to shapeshift as quickly as she had. Morrigan had admitted that it had taken her years of study to learn her first form, but she acknowledged that while she was learning her first forms she didn't have the amount of control as Artalise had already learned. And the fact that Artalise _had _already watched the nature of how ravens live and fly all during her years in the Tower, well, that explained everything to her. She had then informed Artalise not to expect the next form to come as easily. Unless she intended to learn how to shapeshift into a mouse or a tabby, of course.

"Alistair, for the love of the Maker, we will do the village no good if we can not _walk_" Leliana groaned as she leaned down to massage an aching calf muscle. Artalise was relieved that the bard decided to bring it up. While her own body ached just as much she was hesitant to bring it up. She knew Sten had already passed judgment on her and found her lacking. She could see it in the way he looked at her. He didn't seem impressed with anyone in the party yet, but he appeared to hold particular disdain for the two mages. Which, considering what little she knew of Qunari culture, did not surprise her.

Alistair stopped and stared down the road of the Imperial Highway, his face unreadable to the rest of the party members behind him, before turning and reluctantly nodding his head, "Fine. We should reach the village early on the next morn, regardless. You're right in that we should sleep now while we have the chance, I suppose."

The two women exchanged glances and both sighed in relief, before Artalise looked down and patted Oak's panting head. He whined a little and nudged her softly. It made her smile, "Its alright, my boy. I promise I am OK."

She spoke softly to the little orb of fire she held in her hand, and it suddenly brightened, lighting up the woods near them. Not only was this a useful method for finding a suitable camp site somewhere off the road, but it also alerted Morrigan to the fact that the party was finally stopping for the night.

The campsite was soon set up in clearing several hundred paces to the side of the road, and it did not take long for enough wood to be gathered for a decent sized fire. Once more, Artalise was so thankful that they had stumbled across Bodahn and his son, as the merchants had filled the party's packs with various types of trail food, consisting mainly of dried meat, crackers and cheese. Alistair had seemed unusually happy when the several smalls wheels of cheese were plopped into his hands.

As tired as she had been earlier, Leliana, whom Artalise had been pleased to discover was also a bard, soon found the strength to regale the party with a story of star-struck lovers and the rather comedic end of them both. Even Sten had cracked the smallest of smiles at the end.

Shifts were soon decided, with the mabari lucking out and getting the first one. He contently munched on a random bone he had found as the rest of the party soon drifted off to visit the Fade that night.

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

Artalise looked down at the now open door to a tunnel that Bann Teagan claimed led straight into Redcliffe castle, and grinned to herself. _Of course this castle has a hidden door leading to a secret tunnel ! What sort of castle would this be if it didn't?_

"Something amusing, Mage Surana?" Bann Teagan asked from behind her, his voice was smooth yet seemed genuinely curious. He had insisted on calling her by her proper title ever since he had learned it.

Artalise shook her head a little bit to clear her thinking, before grabbing ahold of the top of the ladder and starting to climb down the old rickety ladder, "Just a passing fancy, Bann Teagan. I won't trouble you with such trivialities"

"I imagine it would be more than that to bring such a bright smile to your lovely face. Please, you must share." He said she slowly disappeared from his view as she climbed her way down the ladder. She could hear Leliana titter behind her. Artalise gave him no answer while he climbed down the ladder himself, instead focusing on bringing forth her little orb of fire – instantly lighting the passage that, judging by the amount of cobwebs hanging from the ceilings, hadn't been used in years.

"I was simply thinking, Bann Teagan, that in nearly all the stories I've read, the day is nearly always won by there being a secret passage either in or out of a dark, foreboding castle." She turned to look at him, meeting his look with a feeling she hadn't felt for awhile, "It seems that those story writers knew what they were talking about, hmm?"

He laughed, and it was a welcomed sound to break the tension that everyone felt. "Indeed, my lady, indeed."

Artalise smiled then focused her attention to Sten, who was reaching up towards the opening. He grunted a little when the full force of Oak landed in his hands, handed down by Alistair. Oak whined a little bit but tried to remain calm until the qunari placed him down on the ground. As soon as his paws felt solid earth between them, he leapt out of the man's ands and trotted towards Artalise, butting the side of her leg lightly. She ruffled the fur on the top of his head lovingly.

"He is a lovely animal" Teagan commented as he looked down at the hound appreciatively. Oak looked up at the man and wagged his tail, causing him to smile even more as he turned his attention back to Artalise, "You are a lucky woman to have him."

"And he is lucky to have me, isn't that right, Oak?" She said as she grinned down at her hound.

"Again, Mage Surana, you seem to find enjoyment in tempting me with stories I am too eager to hear. When this is over, I simply insist that you will stay and indulge me."

She arched an eyebrow and smiled, "If there is time enough for it, ser, I would gladly do so, though I think Leliana would be able to tell them better."

"I doubt the tales_ I_ could tell are the ones Bann Teagan is so eager to hear" replied Leliana, her voice scarcely concealing her amusement at the exchange.

"Umm, yes, well, there will be plenty of time for tale-telling _after_ we see what is causing waves of undead to assault innocent people, hmm? I am sure that is what the townspeople would like us to do, instead, you know, standing here and…_talking_…" Alistair said crisply as he stepped down from the ladder and stepped off at a quick pace to go down the passage with a rather determined look on his face.

Glances were exchanged, but no words were said as the gravity of the situation was once more brought to the forefront and they all turned to follow the Grey Warden.

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

_Today has been a very strange day,_ Artalise thought as she walked with the rest of the group through the long secret tunnel. She wondered when they were actually going to be arriving at the castle itself, as this tunnel seemed to span forever.

They had arrived at the village earlier that morning, greeted by a young man who had apparently been watching for people like themselves. He had seemed slightly disappointed that their numbers were so few, but had said nothing about it as he lead them to where Bann Teagan was located in the village Chantry. The sound of weeping from mothers and children and anxious murmurs had echoed off the high ceilings when they walked in. It was a large building – much larger than the one she had seen in Lothering, which was fitting given the greater population of this village. Alistair had appeared nervous as they had approached, and right before she was going to ask him about it, she realized that he had probably seen Bann Teagan before and was preparing for an awkward reunion.

Bann Teagan had been relieved beyond words to see them – he was especially thrilled at the prospect of having two mages to fend off what he assured them was going to be a large attack – they had been growing even worse as the nights had progressed. The Bann, who was apparently Arl Eamon's brother, Artalise was surprised to find out, had originally wanted them to aid the villagers with the defenses, but then Morrigan had broken into the conversation and pointed out with no small exasperation that dusk was still far off – would it not be a better use of time to go after this threat directly? Whoever was bringing forth these undead was clearly inside the castle- All they needed to do was get inside it and stop the cause of the undead.

Bann Teagan had been clearly taken aback by this suggestion, though Sten actually seemed to approve of it, almost looking down at the woman with admiration. The idea made sense to Artalise, and it wasn't soon before the Bann was nodding his head enthusiastically in agreement. He had then waved for them to follow them as he walked out of the Chanty. He stopped briefly to talk with the apparent village leader who was preparing its defenses, before continuing to walk up to where he said he had a place where he knew how they could get into the castle without having to break down the front gate.

On his their way up to a huge windmill, The Bann had tried to make small talk with Morrigan, but after he realized the futility of doing such, he instead found a more willing participant in Artalise. The two of them had chattered pleasantly enough until they came to where the windmill building stood, outside of which there was a small group of knights gathered around, as if discussing strategy, or more likely telling jokes. Bann Teagan excused himself graciously from Artalise's presence and approached the apparent Knight Commander, who had been watching the approaching group with some interest. The Bann explained to the Knight Commander, whose name was Ser Perth, their plan that they were to infiltrate the castle- eventually entering the courtyard in order to open the gates for the Knights. Ser Perth had looked slightly concerned at the plan – explaining that he had sent scouts to watch the courtyard and castle proper an calculate the numbers of undead. The scouts had reported that their numbers had increased greatly since the night prior. His concern fled, however, when Teagan extended his hands toward Morrigan and Artalise, and explained that they had not one, but _two_ actual mages who would be aiding in this endeavor. Ser Perth had then nodded his head in agreement with the plan and said that he would start to move his men out towards the castle gates once they had made their way inside the Castle walls.

And now, here they were, making their way towards the great unknown. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief as a door flickered just within distance of Artalise's orb. Finally, a sign that there was an end to the tunnel. It took both Alistair and Sten to shove the door open, and they both coughed at the cloud of dust that swirled up as the door crashed open.

"The dungeon" Bann Teagan stated as they each walked through the door. It was dimly lit by a few torches. Then there came a sound of someone seeming to scramble up to a standing position, "Hello? Is there someone there?" came a voice from one of the cells.

"Oh? The Arl actually has someone down here? _That's_ unusual" The Bann murmured as he walked over to the cell. Artalise was more troubled by the fact that that voice seemed so familiar to her…she just couldn't place it. So she too walked over to the cell, before she gasped and instantly brought her staff forward in a defensive posture, alarming her other companions.

"Jowan?"

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

_A.N. - So yes, I decided I didn't want my characters to go through the whole bloody process of protecting the village when they clearly get there early enough in the day that they can go to the castle and get stuff taken care of. I hope it makes some sense..._

_A.N. - I included the rather long explanation about shapeshifting after an astute reader brought up that my timeline for learning shapeshifting seemed a bit too quick - especially when Morrigan states it takes years to learn shapeshifting. So I thought of the reason that 1) Artalise already knows how to control her power well and 2) Birds would be one of the few animals that she would have been able to see while in the Tower...so she would watch them with much interest. Kinda weak, but hopefully it makes my shapeshifting idea a bit more true to canon. :)_


	15. Chapter 11:  Desperate Measures

_A.N. Dedicated to Arsinoe de Blassenville for their continued, and much appreciated, reviews._

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~~

* * *

The man within the cell fell towards the rear of the cell when he saw Artalise approach and shout his name, his own eyes widening in shock and recognition.

"Do you…know this man, Mage Surana?" Bann Teagan asked softly.

"Indeed, I do. His name is Jowan…and he is a _maleficar_." She practically hissed as she glared at Jowan, her once best-friend at the circle.

"Arty! Please, I-I didn't mean to do anyone any harm…I just….just…." Jowan tried to explain before being interrupted by Teagan.

"What is a maleficar doing in my brother's prison?"

Jowan clasped his hands nervously, and looked down at the ground, not bothering to try to hide the guilt and shame he obviously felt.

"Yes, Jowan. What happened to you after you fled the Tower?" Artalise inquired as well, her initial surge of anger dissipating as she saw in the mage signs of his regret.

Jowan let out a sigh, cautiously approaching the front of the cell as he explained, "I…I didn't get far from the Tower when the Templars caught me….and soon after that they were attacked by strange men who later claimed to be working for T-Teyrn Loghain and… they said they'd let me go if I would first go down to Redcliffe under the premise of teaching the Arl's child enough of the art to control his m-magic, " Both Teagan and Alistair gasped at this knowledge, and Alistair started to say something but Artalise waved him off. Jowan continued, "While there I was to…use the p-poison that they gave me against the Arl. They told me he had intentions to betray the King? What else was I suppose to do?" He practically cried out.

"You…poisoned my brother?" Teagan asked slowly, his hand moving towards his sword.

"Poison has little to do with the walking dead." Morrigan quipped from behind the group. Artalise instantly agreed, peering through the bars at the repentant Jowan, "What does this have to do with what is going on right now? Why is there undead attacking the village and roaming the castle grounds?"

Jowan sighed and shook his head sadly, "I was…was teaching Connor as best as I could – you know me Arty, I had trouble learning these things myself- and now to teach someone else to control their connection to the Fade?" He paused as he heaved a breath, "A demon apparently found its way to Connor and tricked him into allowing himself to become possessed. The Arl had been worsening every since I started giving him poison, but after Connor was possessed the Arl m-merely slept – he got neither better nor worse. At least I think that is what happened- I was locked up soon after Connor became possessed – The Arlessa accused me of doing it." He looked up at Artalise pleadingly, "but I didn't- I swear! I wish…I wish I could just take it all go back! I want to go back to the Tower and become a Tranquil. Instead, I have ruined the lives of s-so….many…P-poor Lily..." His voice started to crack near the end and he suddenly knelt down, hiding his face with his hands, but he couldn't hide the sound of his sniffling.

It reminded her of the many times she had found him in the back of the library, in one of its many forgotten area, tucked into a corner and crying, upset with himself over failing yet another task his enchanter had asked him to do. She would always kneel beside him and wrap her and arm around him and let him cry before gently getting him to stand up and taking him over to a table so she could try to talk him through the theory of the spell, or taking him to the laboratory so they could go through the spell step by step, Artalise correcting his form or pronunciation. It often took many long hours, but eventually she was able to help him, and the look of joy on his face whenever he finally performed the spell correctly always made the effort worth it.

_How far he has fallen…_She thought sadly.

"So? What are we going to do with him?" Alistair asked impatiently. By the way his hand hovered near the hilt of his sword, she knew what he thought was best.

Bann Teagan was apparently in agreement, "If he is a maleficar as you have said, _and_ he has just confessed to poisoning my brother, this man deserves nothing less than death."

Artalise bit her lip, then placed her hand on Teagan's outstretched hand as he reached for the keys to the cell that was hanging on the opposite side of the wall.

"Wait. Let us leave him here – He may yet be of aid to us. We still do not know what exactly awaits us within the castle."

"What? You are just going to leave a blood mage here?" Alistair exclaimed.

"This man feels true repentance for what he has done. It is harder for him to live with his grief than it would be for him to accept death. Is that not punishment enough?" Leliana asked softly.

"_Mal-e-fi-car" _Alistair sounded out, jabbing his finger in Jowan's direction as he enunciated each syllable.

Artalise moved over to the front of the cell, blocking the other Grey Warden from looking at her old friend, and crossed her arms, "Let him be, Alistair. Justice will be served – but he may be able to help right this mess he has caused. Can we not take that chance? Besides, if he has not escaped yet, I doubt he ever will."

The two Grey Wardens glared at each other for a few long moments, before Alistair suddenly threw up his hands, giving up, and stomped off towards the door that lead out of the dungeon. The others started to follow until it was just Artalise and Jowan left.

"Th-thank you Arty. You…I don't deserve this….I-I deserve to d-"

"Yes, yes you do Jowan." She said, her voice cracking with emotion though she tried so hard to stop it. She was glad her back was still turned to her childhood friend – she wouldn't have wanted him to see her tears of anguish. She opened her mouth to say something, but in the end she only took in a deep breath and then ran after her companions, wiping the tears away from her face as Jowan watched forlornly from his barred cell.

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

One of the few good things about fighting undead was that blood didn't get everywhere, Artalise noted as she looked at the results of their last battle. They did stink though, which wasn't surprising due to their rotting flesh. Even more horrifying to fight had been the shades, as their other-worldly appearance sent shivers up the spine of everyone. Even Morrigan had seemed a little perturbed.

"We can get to the courtyard by going through this passage" Teagan said as he lead the small group down a small stairway. "As Ser Perth warned, be prepared for a large amount of undead" he warned.

As the group made their way through the cramped passage, Morrigan subtly navigated her way towards Artalise.

"Are you prepared to face a demon, Circle Mage?" Morrigan practically whispered.

Artalise nodded her head grimly.

"Then, you have a plan on how to rid the boy of the demon?"

She nodded her head.

"Is it to kill the boy?" Morrigan asked, her voice light.

Artalise brows furrowed together and she looked sideways at the taller woman, "It sounds like the boy gave himself willingly to this demon. If so, we should be able to drive the demon away without harming the boy."

"And you know how to find where this demon is in the Fade?"

Artalise sighed, and shook her head, "No. I never was taught that. The Circle considered anything dealing with demons and the Fade directly to be forbidden to us apprentices to learn– but if Jowan somehow managed to learn blood magic, it is possible he may know the spell to do so."

"So that is why you saved the boy, hmm?"

"Amongst other reasons, yes."

Morrigan smirked and nodded her head.

Up ahead Bann Teagan was giving out orders to the warriors of the group. He left the mages pretty much alone, as their abilities were better suited to adapting to what the battle situation was rather than attempting to plan it out before hand.

After being inside for so long, and spending an inordinate amount of time underground, the bright light of the sun in the courtyard blinded Artalise. She shook her head and narrowed her eyes, looking around the battlefield as she called her much-loved flames to her.

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

"Teagan? Teagan!" shouted a heavily Orlesian accented voice as they walked, or more like limped into the main hall of the castle. The fight outside in the courtyard had been larger than they had expected, and had it not been for Ser Perth and his knights charging through the soon-opened gates, Artalise doubted they would be standing where they were. She had exhausted herself with healing all the major wounds of her companions and allies – no one would die today, but neither would they get total relief from their pain. At least not from her. Artalise leaned heavily on her staff as she saw a rather attractive older woman run towards the limping form of Bann Teagan, "What are you doing here? You shouldn't be here!" She cried out, looking nervously towards the opposite end of the hall.

"Where…where is Connor, Isolde?" Teagan asked as he slowly raised himself to a fully standing position, scarcely containing his wince of pain.

"He is…he is in his room. Why?" She asked her voice practically breaking, "Why do you ask for Connor, Teagan?"

The Bann sighed, "We know that Connor is…possessed, Isolde…."

She started to cry as she crumpled to the ground at Bann Teagan's feet, "He only did it to save his father….This is all that mage's fault!" She sobbed, her breasts heaving.

"Where is Connor, Isolde?" Bann Teagan asked again as he knelt down beside her. She cried out and pressed her head into his chest as she cried. If she answered him, no one could make out what she said.

"Connor is no more. He made the trade. It is fair." Echoed a dark, otherworldly voice from the other end of the hall. All eyes but Isolde's turned to stare at the body of a boy, whom Artalise assumed was Connor. Isolde seemed to cry even louder.

"Why do you cry, Mother? I thought you liked having guests?" The boy asked in a voice much deeper and darker than a boy's voice ought to be.

"I-I-I do…Connor…I love it so much…" Isolde wept.

"Then these guests make you unhappy, Mother? Shall I drive them away?" Connor asked, a wicked smiling slowly forming on his lips.

"N-n-no, Connor, please do-don't…." Isolde cried out weakly as Connor raised his hands up. And then was frozen in place there.

Morrigan walked out in front of the group, demanding the frozen demon's full attention. "You shall not be rid of us demon. 'Twould be wise for you to live the boy while you still can." She stated icily to the demon. She trembled a little bit from the effort of keeping the demon paralyzed. After a few more moments, either due to feeling like her point had been made or she was unable to hold him paralyzed much longer, she released the boy's body.

He fell to the ground before lifting his head up and hissing at Morrigan. Apparently, she had unnerved the demon within the boy, however, because when he rose back to his feet he fled to the rooms behind the main hall.

The group all watched him go, before Morrigan turned to face then, though she focused on Artalise, "'Twould be quickest to kill the boy."

"No! You shall not kill my Connor!" cried out the Arlessa Isolde, her face still streaked with tears. Bann Teagan wrapped his arm around her, partly to comfort her, partly to keep her from doing anything rash.

Morrigan flatly ignored the woman's pleas, "The demon has a solid hold on the boy. 'Twould be difficult to free him from it."

"No, no no! I beg you, please, there must be some other way?" the Orlesian woman begged, fighting against the hold of Bann Teagan.

"Must we kill Connor? Out of everyone here, he is the most innocent …he only wanted to save his father." Alistair stated softly from behind her, clearly disturbed by the arlessa's distraught.

"'We could send someone into the Fade to drive the demon out of Connor" Artalise said hesitantly. Morrigan sighed, having already known that was an option, but clearly not agreeing with it.

"Yes! Let us do that one, please!" Isolde said, slowly rising to her feet as she suddenly realized that perhaps there was a way out of the catastrophe that had befallen her family.

"Tis not as easy as it sounds. We are both drained of magic, and even should the prisoner join us, his power would not be enough." Morrigan spat out at the woman. Isolde stared back at her blankly, not understanding what Morrigan was getting at.

"We need a source of power to draw upon. Most mages prefer lyrium…but in this case we would have to use…ahh…blood." Artalise further explained, hesitantly.

Alistair gasped behind her, but the Arlessa immediately nodded her head in understanding, "You then require a sacrifice, yes? I will do it – I will do it if it will save my Connor…."

"Lady Isolde, no! No, there has to be a better way than resorting to _blood magic_" Alistair protested, swiping both his hands down to add emphasis to his displeasure in the idea.

Artalise turned and looked at her fellow Grey Warden sadly, "We don't have a choice – we _must_ deal with Connor tonight – there is not enough time to go to the Circle to ask for lyrium and mages enough to do this. One…sacrifice…though, that should provide enough power for the ritual."

"No! We can not do this, we must not resort to this….We can't do this to the Arl!" Alistair shouted back to her, turning his back to walk away.

"We have no choice, Alistair! How many more innocents must die for the idiocy of this woman?" Artalise shouted back, pointing an accusing finger at the shrinking Arlessa, whose face saddened, but did not protest the accusation. "If she is willing to sacrifice herself to end this mess, is it not better than taking the life of an innocent boy?"

Alistair crossed his arms, and shook his head, "You know what? I can't be apart of this. You want to kill her, fine. I will have no hand in this" he stated and he walked off, shaking his head, his fists clenched by his side in rage.

Artalise clenched her jaw, and briefly rubbed her head, wishing for the simple days of being a Circle mage. _Who knew freedom would come at such a cost? _She then took in a deep breath and turned to face the group.

"With your leave, I would like to release Jowan for a time. I need him to teach Morrigan how to harness the power of a...a life sacrifice in order to send myself into the Fade. I will fight the demon."

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

For the next hour, Morrigan, Jowan and Artalise were huddled up in a small room as Jowan attempted to teach Morrigan all he remembered on the subject, as both female mages lightly sipped on some lyrium potions that the dwarven merchants have given them with a knowing look in his eyes. This was valuable stuff indeed, and much needed as they were happy to feel their power getting restored, especially with what lay ahead of them.

The teaching itself was aided by the fact that Morrigan had already been taught the basics of blood magic by Flemeth– it was apparently just something she had decided not to pursue further. The ritual itself was relatively easy as well, as the biggest component of doing it successively relied mainly on the ability of the caster to concentrate, and in that regard Artalise trusted Morrigan completely. Years of shapeshifting had honed her ability to focus.

As they walked back to the hallway, Morrigan once more slowed her pace to walk beside her as Jowan walked several paces to their front, "Why?" she asked quietly, simply.

Artalise smiled up at the human mage, knowing exactly what the other was asking, "Because I trust you. We have fought and shed blood together. And you saved my life at Ostagar." She paused before adding softly, "I trust you with my life."

Morrigan was taken aback by the forthrightness of Artalise's statement. Pleased, but shocked all the same.

A few paces before they reentered the main hall, Artalise suddenly put her hand out, stopping Morrigan in her tracks. Artalise watched Jowan enter the hall, before the elf turned to the other mage.

"I need you to do something for me." Artalise told the other woman, an intense look in her eyes, and her voice hushed to ensure no one else could hear her.

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

Alistair had been pacing up and down Arl Eamon's study for the past hour, his mind in chaos as he thought about the past and present. About how much the Arl clearly loved his wife, and how now they were planning on taking away the love of his life. Arl Eamon, the man who had treated Alistair well, all things considered. For Maker's sake, the man actually took the time to visit him at the Chantry before Alistair scared him away. He could still hear the sound of the amulet breaking, still see it shatter as it slammed into the wall of his room.

He ran his fingers through his hair, and he stopped in the back of the Arl's desk, his eyes darting around. A sudden curiousity seized him, and he started opening the desk drawers. Most of what he saw were various official looking documents and random trinkets. As he opened one drawer near the bottom though, his breath suddenly caught in his throat. A trembling hand reached out and gingerly grasped a small amulet of Andraste, one that was riddled with cracks showing that it had once been broken, but then lovingly repaired. He couldn't imagine how long it would have taken.

Arl Eamon had repaired the one thing the young Alistair had valued above all other things – his mother's amulet, and the one thing Alistair had regretted most in his life thus far. Tears welling in his eyes, he reached behind him and unclasped the gold chain that held Duncan's gold key. He carefully threaded the gold chain through the loop of his mother's amulet, before reclasping it once more behind his neck. He looked down at the one piece he had left of his mother and the one piece he had that once belonged to the man he considered his father as they both rested against his heart.

And now he was about to shatter Arl Eamon's most precious thing in this world, and there was no way it could ever be repaired.

No, he could not allow this to happen. There _had_ to be another way. There must be. With resolution stitched in his brows he set off towards the main hall, the words he was going to say running quickly through his mind.

When he was halfway there, a woman's shriek suddenly echoed throughout the stony walls of the castle and his heart dropped. He was too late.

He ran down to the main hall door, preparing to voice his disgust with what he had occurred, when he rounded the doorway and looked into it. Artalise was recumbant, a child's book splayed across her chest as Morrigan stood near her, the marsh witch's face contorted in fierce concentration as magic swirled around her. His eyes didn't widen however, until he focused on the form of the Arlessa.

The Lady Isolde was sitting upright but trembling as she stared at the broken body of the blood mage Jowan, his face contorted into the last emotions he would ever have- shock and despair.

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

_A.N. I think I might be able to give you all one last chapter before college starts for me...and then my updating will go down drastically. _

_A.N. Also, I will be trying very hard to take alternate paths in this fan fiction, as can be seen with this chapter, I think. :) I would really really appreciate it if any astute readers will bring to my attention anything that sounds a little off, or needs a bit more attention. Anyone think sacrificing Jowan sounds unreasonable? In my story he's a bit of a dunce (I'm pretty sure he's such in the mage origins too, right? I can't remember), so while learning how to use blood magic to push someone into the Fade might have taken him a while to learn, I doubt many will say that Morrigan is a moron - I thought she was pretty darn smart, and who really knows *what* Flemeth taught her...I didn't think it unreasonable for her to basically already know the fundamentals of the spell/ritual they were going to do._

_A.N. - Lots of A.N's today! I know that my explanation of Jowan's experiences might not be true to canon...but work with me here, please. I did that part from memory instead of going back through a saved game and talking with him :) _

_A.N. - I have a child's book on Artalise's chest because I figured that part of the spell/ritual would require Artalise to have something dear to the person they were trying to reach in the Fade. I didn't go into details, but in my mind I saw it as Connor's favorite book about griffons and the Arl would read it to him just about every night. :)_


	16. Chapter 12:  Darkest Desires

_A.N. Yay! People seemed to like the last chapter, and that makes me a very happy ff writer! :)_

_A.N. This chapter is dedicated to Arsinoe de Blassenville, fussycat, and Reaverwind for their very kind reviews! I was so pleased to hear that people liked my twist in the last chapter. And thank you to my many silent readers as well- I appreciate you all reading through this story!_

_A.N. I posted an illustration of this chapter on my deviantart page. Link is on my profile. _

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

Artalise curled herself into a ball and cried.

She wept, she howled, she wailed, she mourned. All the while, the voices of a young boy calling out for his father, and the cry of a father looking for his son haunted her ears.

This was how she often spent her time in the Fade, at least for the past several weeks – it was the few one times when she was truly alone; when she felt like she could finally let her guard down and let her emotions fall out of her. The time, of course, that she wasn't enduring nightmares of darkspawn and an Archdemon who constantly seemed to prowl the Fade looking for her.

_Jowan_….she clutched a hand to her heart as if by doing so it would stop it from breaking any more. The guilt she felt ravaged her and left her feeling like a husk of her former self.

She had known right away that she did not want to kill the boy – it wasn't his fault that his mother had hired one of the most incompetent mages while he was in the Circle. And the boy obviously had a good heart if he was willing to risk making a deal with a demon in order to ensure his father still lived. Jowan would have at the very least informed the boy of the risks involved with demons. In fact, it could very well have been because Connor made through that Maker-forsaken deal that his father was still alive, unconscious though he was. The boy had only done what he thought had to be done to save his beloved father.

Naturally her first choice for sacrifice had been Isolde. The woman's damned accent had got on her nerves and her constant crying had made Artalise want to slap her upside the head. It was the woman's own selfishness that made her train her son as an apostate outside the guidance of the Circle, and thus her actions had directly led to him becoming an abomination. However, if Artalise was a mother, and a woman of devout faith as Arlessa Isolde seemed to be, would she not ponder doing the same thing? If she was the wife of an arl, would she be willing to give up their only son, their only heir to the arling, to the Tower – to a place where she would probably never see her son again? To a place where her son's blood would not afford him any luxury? To a place that will do everything in its power to erase his memories of his family before the Circle? Would she, could she be that strong?

When had she thought of having Jowan replace her as a sacrifice? She couldn't even remember. But at the time it seemed to make the most sense. After all, no one would miss him. No one would mourn the nervous apprentice who had actually managed to destroy his phylactery and used forbidden blood magic to escape from the Circle. No one would care the apostate who was lied to in order to gain his compliance in poisoning Arl Eamon. No one would miss the malificar who somehow missed all the signs of a demon tempting his young student until it was too late. No one would likely remember him but her, Artalise, who had lost her oldest, and dearest friend.

True, she had felt anger at his betrayal of trust – he had not told her that he wanted to leave the tower as a blood mage! But, didn't he too have reason enough to feel betrayed, for she had gone behind his back and told the First Enchanter everything he had planned. From his point of view, she had went against trust formed through years of friendship. He had merely gone against the short-sighted restrictions placed on the mages by the Chantry. Which was worse?

Her tears slowed to a whimper and she rolled over to her back, staring up into the blurry "sky" of the Fade as she tried to bring her breathing back under her own control. She had no idea how long she had been there sobbing over her decision, but she didn't really care either – time in the Fade progressed so differently than in the real world that a few moments is all that probably passed back in the main hall in Redcliffe. She rubbed her eyes and sighed.

Perhaps the thing that she was most reluctant to comes to term with was how much of the yoke of responsibility had landed on her shoulders. She was the youngest member of the party – Alistair and Leliana were both her elders by several years, and she imagined that Morrigan and Sten had several years on both of them as well. Yet, all eyes had been focused on her to make this decision. She was not ready for this! Just a month or two ago she was a relatively responsibility free mage apprentice, eagerly awaiting the day when she could undergo the Harrowing. Today, she had made her first true sacrifice and would have to bear full responsibility for her actions.

And that is what she should do.

Taking in another deep breath, Artalise got herself to her feet, smoothing her robes out as she collected her thoughts.

It was time to kill the demon.

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

"Should you not be in a form that I desire?" Artalise growled at the desire demon who hovered a few paces from her. She'd already had to killed two apparitions of the creature. Something about the way this demon watched her though, seemed wary of her, convinced her that this was the actual demon.

"I could change my form to something you think you would find more appealing, elf, but most find my true form most appealing of all" The demon answered, her sultry voice wrapping itself about Artalise's mind before heading lower and igniting the desire she held within. The elf breathed deeply, then slammed shut the door to her mind like she'd been taught to do so many times in the Circle. Last time she'd had to do it was during her Harrowing.

The demon looked at her with some surprise, though she quickly reverted back to her enchanting smile, "I…do not wish to fight with you, elf. Come, let us talk like the civilized beings we are, hmm?"

"You wish to make a deal with me, demon? After all you have done? After all the innocent blood you have spilled?" Artalise growled again, her eyes narrowing.

"I made a fair deal with the boy….he got what he wanted, and I what I most desired."

"And now my desire is for you to leave the boy alone!"

The demon smiled knowingly, "Oh, is that what you most desire, my dear _mage_?" She shook her head slowly from side to side, "No, I do not think it is…." The demon floated close to her then, the aura surrounding the creature exciting Artalise in a way she'd never been before…it was so much stronger than just a sexual desire, the only thing that could come close to describing the feeling. A soft supple finger caressed the side of her face and she leaned down to place her mouth near Artalise's ear, the demon's breath eliciting a slight moan from the mage, "Tell me what you desire…."

"P-power- Kn-Knowledge." She gasped. Her eyes widened, surprised at her answer. It was as if the demon's words had pulled from her deepest darkest corner, one that Artalise didn't even existed, her most hidden desire. Yet as the words echoed out of her mouth, she knew instantly they were true.

The demon let out a throaty laugh and retreated a couple of paces from Artalise, "Ahh…of course….you seek what all you mages secretly desire, yes? You seek the knowledge that led your brethren to darken the City here long ago…you seek to learn the secrets of harnessing the power of _life_ itself."

Artalise felt like her mouth was dry, her mind in chaos as it tried to come to terms with what she had just said. She could only nod her head for an answer.

"And it is yours….if you but allow me to leave the boy…for a time." The demon parted her lips in a grin, "I will, however, still have a hold on him, and later, when he is no longer a concern to you, he shall be mine….again."

Artalise said nothing for a few moments. Now that she had finally admitted to herself what she truly wanted, though she had never dared to think of it before, she couldn't let the thought go. This is what she wanted, this is what she hungered most for in the world. Her curiosity had led her to the more ancient parts of the mage library when she was still a part of the Circle– where she read old tomes and sometimes stumbling across, amidst lines of dry babble, a line or two of profound ancient knowledge. Perhaps something regarding the Tevinter Imperium, or a new theory of the Black City. They were always just one piece of a puzzle though – she never could figure out how to combine what little she had gleaned from the texts. Now, however, she could not only have all the pieces, but have the puzzle presented to her complete.

Besides, she could make everybody happy with this choice – Isolde would have her little boy back, the attacks on the village would stop, Alistair would be happy, and she would have made Jowan's sacrifice worthwhile.

A part of her cried out at this last thought – Is that not what a maleficar would think while drawing the life force out of a victim? How could she even think of trying to make anything equal the cost of killing her friend? A small smile passed over her lips as she realized that that was the old Artalise – the one from the Tower- thinking. That version of herself was gone – changed. She was now a woman who had battled unknown numbers of darkspawn, she had seen the rotting corpses of the betrayed warriors of Ferelden, killed the men of Loghain, and now the biggest catalyst – her intentional taking of a life of someone close to her, all while the pressure of responsibility had pressed down on her. She doubted few could undergo that experience and not ..._grow..._ as a person.

"No." She said resolutely.

"No?" The demon repeated, honestly surprised at the answer.

"No, " She repeated, subtly moving into a position that would allow her to cast her spells quickly. She knew the demon noted this, "No. The only way I allow you to leave this place intact is for you to agree to give me what I want." She smiled darkly, "Otherwise, I shall drive you out."

"There is little in this deal for me, mage" The demon sneered.

"On the contrary – you get to leave this section of the Fade with your full power. You know as well as I that there are many places in this world where the Veil is worn thin. It will be easy for you to find someone else to strike a deal with."

Nothing was said for a few long moments as fade creature and elf mage merely stared at each other, sizing each other up.

The demon blinked first, "What you say is true….I will give you what you want, elf, if you will let me leave freely"

Slowly, Artalise nodded her head in agreement. "I shall"

"….So let it be…."

Artalise's world suddenly went white.

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

Sweat was starting to drip down Morrigan's face as she concentrated on maintaining the spell that bound Artalise to the part of the Fade guarded by the demon whom possessed the boy. She gasped in relief when she finally saw the other mage's eyes flutter ever so lightly. She was back. She had been successful

"Leliana – take her to a room…she must rest…"

The Orlesian nodded her head, but put an arm around the faltering mage first, much to Morrigan's chagrin, "But what about yourself? You seem more in need of a good night's sleep too, yes?"

Morrigan shrugged off Leliana's arm, her brows furrowed together in disturbed confusion over the other woman's concerns, "I am fine – I can, "she paused as she drew in a shaky breath, "walk to my room. She," she said as she pointed a finger towards the recumbent mage, "Will need help. Her time in the Fade was not restful."

Leliana clearly didn't believe her, but started to pull away from the woman when Alistair and the Bann walked over to the barely conscious form of Artalise. At first it seemed as if the Bann was going to pick the delicate elf mage up, but Alistair suddenly gripped the man's arm, keeping him upright, as he, himself knelt down and picked up his fellow Warden, concern etched throughout his face. The Bann had a knowing smile when he lightly tapped Alistair on the shoulder and directed the Warden to follow him as he undoubtedly led him to a room where Artalise could recuperate in peace.

The bard looked over at Morrigan expectantly, while the mage rolled her eyes and sighed, "I need no aid from you, _bard_."

"Of course not, Morrigan." Leliana said with a smile before she busied herself with dusting off her uniform. However, as Morrigan walked slowly to the room designated to her by a still shaken Lady Isolde, she heard the light footsteps of the bard behind her, and even felt the steadying hand of the other woman during the few instances Morrigan thought she was going to collapse to the ground.

Not a word passed between them.

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

_A.N. - Andraste's Flaming Sword! Writing emotional angst is soooo difficult! I hope Artalise's emotions made sense..._

_A.N. - I start class tomorrow. *cry*. Chances are I'll be updating weekly- most likely on the weekends. Maybe a chapter or two during the week occasionally..._

.


	17. Chapter 13:  Blood and Flowers

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

Someone pounded on Morrigan's door, after they had rattled the door's handle violently when they found it locked.

"Morrigan! I need you to come with me….there is something wrong with Artalise…." came the lilting voice of the minstrel, slightly muffled through the thick wooden door. Heavy though the door was, Morrigan was alarmed at the sense of urgency obvious in the woman's tone. She got up quickly from her bed where she had been sleeping, _peacefully_, and unlocked the door. The moment the door swung open Leliana grabbed a hold of Morrigan and pulled the startled woman into the hall before dragging her towards what she assumed was Artalise's room down the hall.

"What has happened?" Morrigan asked as soon as Leliana pulled out of her room.

Leliana looked around fervently before answering in a hushed voice, "Artalise…I do not know…something has happened to her…"

"What? What is she doing?" Morrigan asked, but received only in answer a shake of Leliana's head and a quickening in pace

As they drew closer to what Morrigan assumed was Artalise's room the faint sound of a dog whining interspersed with anxious little barks could be heard. Something was clearly happening in there.

Leliana practically ran the final paces and opened up the door; Morrigan thought she heard her whisper some religious chant as she opened it up. She then motioned to Morrigan to follow her through quickly. With a small crease of curiosity in her brow, she quickly walked through the door but stopped no more than a few paces from the entrance as Leliana closed the door quietly behind her.

The walls, at least those within reach of the small elf, were covered in a script that Morrigan had never seen in her life. Artalise knelt now on the stone ground, a bloodied knife laying beside her as she wiped her finger across a deep gash in her arm, using her own blood to continue to write these ancient words. Oak was sitting beside his mistress, nudging her every once in a while and whining, as if begging her to snap out of whatever had possessed her.

"Get me a parchment, or vellum and inkwells with quills." She snapped at Leliana as she glanced around at the bloodied walls, "And a bowl with water and some cloths" As she turned to leave, Morrigan grabbed her arm and stared intently into her eyes, "No one must know of this."

Leliana nodded resolutely and quickly left the room to track down the items Morrigan had requested.

As the door closed behind her once more, Morrigan focused her calculating amber eyes on Artalise and sighed, "What deal did you make, you foolish girl?"

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

This was the second day that Alistair spent in the library, there not so much for the reading but for the pleasant peace and quiet the room afforded.

Right now he imagined that Isolde, and Teagan were eagerly awaiting the arrival of a Circle mage – they had sent for one earlier that morning when they noted that the Arl was not recovering. Indeed, they feared without the demon's intervention that Eamon may grow worse. The Wilder witch had made some potions, but had said that was the extent of her ability to help – and had then spent the remainder of the time locked up in Artalise's room – forbidding anyone else from seeing the young Grey Warden. During the few scant hours that Morrigan slept, Leliana watched over Artalise. He had hoped that the bard's bubbly nature would make her open up to him over Artalise's condition – but she skillfully dodged all questions regarding that matter and would even find a way to send Alistair away without directly coming out and telling him to do so. While annoyed, he had also been impressed with her skill.

"How goes it, Alistair?" Teagan's voice sounded from behind him. The older man smiled and patted Alistair's shoulder as he swung around the table where Alistair was seated at and took a seat in the opposing chair.

Alistair cleared his throat, "Well, Bann Teagan. Is Connor and the Arl faring well?"

The other man smiled, "Connor is back to his usual self, thanks to the Maker. And you and your friends of course." He said with a small nod of thanks before continuing, "My brother is…well, we hope that a healer will be able to help him. And please drop the title, Alistair. Teagan will do nicely, especially after all you have done for us."

"_I_ haven't done very much at all."

"I do seem to recall you bashing in some skulls of the undead who once roamed this halls." Teagan grinned.

"That's me – Alistair the skull-cracker."

Teagan chuckled a little as he leaned back in his chair, "Tell me, how fares your lovely fellow Warden? I have seen your other friends roaming the halls at some point or another," he leaned in with a smirk, "And may I just say that your qunari friend…what's his name…"

"Sten."

"Ah yes, Sten, has inflated our baker's ego to a point where I doubt she'll ever be the same. He's been delighting her to no end by eating all the cookies she's made. He's far and away surpassed the number Connor had eaten." He laughed again, before waving his hand in the air, "But enough of that – back to my question."

Alistair shrugged, attempting to be nonchalant and hide his own anxiety he had for his fellow Warden, "Morrigan and Leliana have been watching her. They haven't let anyone else see her, however."

Concern started to etch across the Bann's face, "How curious. I suppose dealing with a demon could do that to a person, however?" he looked at Alistair like he expected the young templar to give him an answer. When he realized that there was none, at least from him, he sighed an continued, "Well, when a mage from the Circle arrives tomorrow, I'll be sure to send them over to your friend to try to help cure…whatever it is that ails her…"

"Thank you, Teagan."

Silence passed between the two men for a few moments, Alistair's attention directed at a random book he had pulled of a shelf and trying to avoid Teagan's calculating gaze.

Teagan put both his elbows on the table and leaned heavily on them as his gaze intensified, "Tell me, do you plan on staying at Redcliffe for very long?"

Alistair looked up with an arched eyebrow and lazily flipped through a couple of pages, picking up a few words here and there. "I imagine not. Lady Isolde has been hinting at me that she wants us, the Grey Wardens, to seek out the Urn of Sacred Ashes. Said something about a brother Geni-whatever in Denerim whom she hired to do research…." He shrugged, "Eager for us to be gone, Bann Teagan?"

The other man smiled, "No, no. Quite the opposite, in fact."

Another long moment passed.

"Are you and the elf…close?"

_That_ piqued Alistair's attention and he closed the book he hadn't been reading, "We're the last two Grey Wardens in Ferelden. Of course we're close."

The older man smirked, "Do you have an…interest in her?"

Alistair blanched and his mind went blank.

"I-I…well…Of cour-…" He coughed, "What do you mean by interest?" He finished, weakly.

"Still the same, shy little lad I see. I would have thought you would have grown out of it by now." The tone was teasing, but Alistair couldn't tell if there were more serious overtones to it. When Alistair didn't say anything as a response, Teagan nodded his head and got up from the table.

"She's a smart women – clever of her to use the maleficar like that. Pretty too. You won't be the only one to notice." Teagan said nonchalantly before he bowed, "As lovely as the chat has been, Alistair, I am afraid that the tedium of being Arl calls upon me again. May you find whatever it is you are looking for," He said with a small nod at the closed book before he walked out of the library, leaving in his wake a confused young Grey Warden.

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

Artalise groaned as her eyes fluttered open. Thankfully the room was dark, though the sun that crept through the thick curtains seemed to indicate that it was at least late morning. She heard the sound of a book closing somewhere in the room, but she chose to ignore it as she tried to drift off to sleep. At least in the Fade she didn't have to deal with splitting headaches.

"Ah. So you finally awaken." came a soft voice that Artalise recognized instantly - Morrigan. Suddenly Artalise gasped and her heart dropped. Morrigan never had been one to seek someone out like this – to appear to be actually _waiting _for her to wake up. She'd probably only been there when Artalise woke up in the hut a few weeks ago, because well, Artalise was in her hut. Quite possibly in her very own bed. Morrigan hadn't had any other place to go in the Korcari Wilds. That she was here…in her, Artalise's room - _voluntarily - _this meant Morrigan knew…or at least she suspected what Artalise had done. It was foolish to think she wouldn't.

Artalise took a couple deep breaths, calming herself, before she opened her eyes again and looked blearily at Morrigan.

"I have…." She moved her hand up to rub her head before her eyes widened in shock and she instantly sat up, staring at her forearm that had several long scabbed over cuts across it. In her palm there was a smaller scar, but she realized to her horror that there was a similar scar on the opposite side of her hand – it appeared as if she had been stabbed all the way through her palm. She started to whimper when she look at her other arm and saw the same markings.

"Ah, yes. So you see what you have done to yourself." The woman said as she walked over to Artalise and sitting at the very end of her bed, watching the young elf's face keenly, "Unfortunately my healing skills pale compare to Mother's. I fear you will have these scars forever more."

"Wh-what happened? How long has it been s-since…" she asked, stuttering over her words as she tried to come to grips with what had happened to her.

"- Since you entered the Fade to deal with the boy's demon? 'Tis the fourth morn since." Morrigan paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts, before continuing, "Much has occurred during those days, and Alistair will be most disappointed I did not call him the moment you awoke. He has pestered me relentlessly these past four days, " she said, taking Artalise aback by the conversational tone she had taken. This was most unlike the woman she knew. Amber eyes suddenly narrowed and Morrigan's gaze became piercing- while unnerving Artalise actually welcomed this behavior as it was much more like the Morrigan she had come to know, "Tell me, Mage of the Circle, how did you deal with the demon?"

It took a moment for Artalise to remember what Morrigan was talking about. Her memory seemed clouded – she couldn't remember _anything _of the past four days – and she had always been one to remember her time in the Fade. Perhaps she had not spent her time there? Yet, she knew _something_ had occurred. It was just like peering through a thick fog. The desire demon though – _that_ stuck in her memory. And what she had done was still clear as day. But had it succeeded?

"Is…Is Connor OK? Is the demon gone?"

Morrigan smirked, but nodded her head, "Tis gone, yes. The boy is himself again, or so I have been told. But," she paused pointedly, "my question still goes unanswered."

Artalise shifted her weight nervously before responding, her eyes kept firmly planted on her hands in her lap, "I made a deal with her."

Morrigan said nothing, nor did she move. She merely waited for Artalise to continue, which she eventually did.

"She…originally made a deal that she would leave for a time in exchange for a gift. I _bargained _instead that I will let her leave unharmed if she would give me a gift and let the boy free. I told her there were many places where the Veil is thin, and she would find it _easy _to find another victim."

There was again silence for a few moments as Artalise assumed Morrigan processed this information. She was surprised to see a small smile on the older woman's face when she hesitantly looked up at her.

"_You _bargained with a demon, did you?" the amusement in her voice was clearly evident, "How...unexpected. 'Tis not every day that one hears of a mage of the Circle willingly bargain with the very same demon who could easily possess them. I thought your kind frowned at that sort of thing"

Artalise was a bit surprised by this nonchalant answer- but then again she was thinking of the mages she knew who lived in the Tower, their lives bound in rules and regulations Morrigan was not like that in the slightest- she was free, and she was pragmatic. For that, Artalise appreciated the "marsh witch", as Alistair was wont to call her after a particularly nasty exchange, all the more.

"And what was the gift you asked for?"

"Power. Knowledge."

Morrigan arched an eyebrow, "How esoteric." She stated simply before she got up and walked over to the desk in the far corner and grabbed a thick stack of vellum. The older woman than walked back over to the curious Artalise and gently laid the skins on the bed beside her. Artalise's brows furrowed as she looked at the archaic writing. She looked up at Morrigan questioningly. When Morrigan realized that Artalise had no idea where these papers came from, or what was written on them, she rolled her eyes while crossing her arms.

"Tis as I expected. You got what you wanted – these words hold much _power_ and _knowledge_ within them. Tell me, can you truly not read a word on these skins?"

Artalise bit her lip and concentrated hard on trying to read the script…but all she could do was admire the delicacy of it all. She shook her head, running a finger along the letters as if writing it, her brows furrowing in confusion, before she looked up again at Morrigan, and holding out her arms, "What does any of this have to do with my arms? What did I do to myself?" She asked pleadingly.

Morrigan let out a sigh and moved some of the vellum out of the way so she could sit down on the bed, her gaze sincere as she looked at Artalise, "Leliana came running into my room only a short time after you had been laid there to rest. When I arrived, I saw all the walls painted in a deep red ink_- your _blood" she stated as she cast her arms around the room, "and I saw you writing then on the floor, using your own fingers as a quill and your body as an inkwell." She smirked, "Twas frightening to no end for Leliana- I believe the Chant was recited in full no less than ten times since you first fell under your trance. _I _even started to memorize verses of the damnable thing."

Artalise's eyes grew wide as she listened to this explanation, but then placed her hand on the vellum when Morrigan finished, "But how did the writing get-"

" 'Twas I who copied it from the walls and floor. Then I stood over you to ensure you used a quill and ink instead of your finger and blood. You can be quite stubborn."

Artalise blinked and ran fingers across her scars, amazed at what had transpired during the past couple of days.

Suddenly Morrigan clasped her hands together, "Ah! But I almost forgot. We received word yesterday that your home, the Circle…has…." She paused, as if searching for a diplomatic way to state what she wanted to say, but then shrugged as she gave up and continued, "Something has occurred at your Circle. The templars prevent all from entering and appear to be laying siege to the Tower." She paused as her eyes narrowed, gauging Artalise's reaction, "There is even a rumor that the Right of Annulment has been for."

Artalise's hands clenched up on the blanket when she heard the last sentence – the Right was something all mages feared. Enchanters and older apprentices alike would threaten the younger acolytes with the Right in order to get them to behave. It always worked as the younger children never realized that the Right meant that the disciplinarian would also find their death at the end of a Templar blade.

If this was true...all her friends she had known...her memories...She started to reel from this second wave of reality that slammed against her mind, crashing and cracking the solid fortress that she had started to build around herself. Around the young Circle mage who wanted nothing more than to study, tucked safe away in a Tower. Tucked away in the very same tower that now seemed to face its destruction.

"How….did this become known?" Artalise asked through gritted teeth, hoping that Morrigan's answer would give her some time to control her emotions.

Morrigan paused for a moment before answering, "While the boy has apparently become what he once was, so has this Eamon, though in a way changed. He stirs not, and is barely breathing. 'Tis possible to mistake him for a corpse - as I did when the Arlessa called me to his room. 'Twas a mistake that took the Bann nearly ten minutes to resolve - oh the screeching! Then, the Arlessa begged me, and when that didn't work screamed at me to do something for her husband." Morrigan sneered darkly before continuing, "When this Bann Teagan finally explained to her what I had been trying to tell for what seemed like hours - that there was naught I could do, she then sent for a mage from the Tower. We received the news yesterday, and she has been on us ever since to _save_ the docile cows of the Chantry from whatever mess they brought upon themselves."

Artalise sat through this explanation silently, nodding her head as her eyes darted back and forth, trying to figure out what could have happened at the Tower to make the Templars prevent all from entering it. She doubted it was a mage-exclusive party…the Templars were always quite insistent to be a part of everything they did.

She ran a hand through her hair, shocked when she felt her hand get caught into a fairly tightly woven braid. How sweet of Leliana to braid her hair, even if had more than likely been reciting the chant while doing so. She actually grinned, and Morrigan seemed quite surprised that after all she had told the younger woman, she had cause to smile. Artalise quickly erased all signs of amusement, not wanting to bother the other with her frivolous explanation, making her face reflect the seriousness of the situation as nodded her head in understanding.

"I assume this does not persuade the Arlessa from still wanting a Circle mage?"

Morrigan scoffed, "Indeed, not. She was nearly ready to order Alistair to go to the Tower, until he told her he would not leave his fellow Grey Warden behind. 'Twas the first time I saw him - and probably the last as well."

Morrigan didn't seem to pay attention to the sarcasm in the other's voice, her brows furrowed in thought before she focused her eyes on Artalise's, "If you still intend to go, 'Twould be best, I think, for myself…and perhaps Sten to remain here. I can do what I can to aid the Arl, Sten should stay as my…protection."

Artalise nodded her head in agreement – Morrigan avoiding entering the domain of the Templars made sense. Nor was she wrong in making up a reason for Sten to stay at Redcliffe – the qunari hadn't bothered to hide his disdain of the two magic-users in his party, at least at first. The next couple of days after he had first joined them saw him gradually warming up to the two, especially once he saw they could easily hold their own in combat. But going to a Tower chock full of mages? Better for him to stay in an utterly mundane environment. Especially if that domain had cookies.

Artalise acknowledged Morrigan's statement with a curt nod as she braced herself to try to stand. After a couple of breaths she finally raised herself, shakily, to her feet. Morrigan watched silently, before leaning down and picking up the elf's staff from the ground and handing it to her. Artalise took it eagerly and leaned heavily on it while taking a few cautious steps. Her legs felt very weak initially, but as she too more and more steps her strength gradually returned to her. She paused as she walked over to the large desk in her room – noticing for the first time a vase with a small, but lovely bouquet of wildflowers. She looked back questioningly at Morrigan who did not attempt to hide the rolling of her eyes.

"'Tis from Alistair – earlier this morning, in fact." She said, no small amount of disdain in her voice.

Artalise's brows furrowed together as she looked once more at the vase. _How curious, _she thought as she leaned in to smell the sweet perfume from the flowers. She breathed in deeply and smiled as she lightly touched the delicate petals of a lovely white flower.

It had been so long since she was given flowers…

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

_A.N. Hope it was worth the wait! Many thanks to all my gracious reviewers - you know who you are. :) And in that regard- compliments and criticisms are always welcomed! I'd love to know what you like or what you think I could work on._

_A.N. Look forward to more updates this weekend!_


	18. Chapter 14: An Army of Asses

_A.N. - Many thanks for the reviews from TanithAeyers, Arsinoe de Blassenville, LilyTiger and amanda weber! _

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

Artalise smiled slightly as her hand sliced through the water, watching the small ripples become absorbed into the wake of their boat. A breeze ruffled her hair and tickled her nostrils - a breeze, she was thankful to smell - that was devoid from the intense smell of rotting or rather _fermenting _fish that permeated Redcliffe. Bann Teagan had mentioned that one eventually gets use to the smell - during the four she had been there, however, she felt the smell was just as strong. The only thing that kept Redcliffe castle livable was enough distance to dampen the stench to a more bearable level. When they had made their way down to the docks to take a boat across, they all had been near the point of gagging.

"Remind me next time I travel by boat to bring a mage with me." Alistair commented, breaking Artalise out of her reverie, "Sometimes I have to wonder why the Chantry keep you mages locked you all the time. You've got some great tricks up your sleeves."

"This, coming from a Templar?" Artalise responded, with an arched eyebrow.

"Dear lady, when someone can cut the travel time nearly in half with a mere wave of her hand, _that _is something that should be appreciated. And I do. Very much so."

"That is quite the change of opinion from our first meeting" she quipped with a grin as the sail behind them snapped in the breeze she had called.

Alistair blushed and suddenly found a spot on his armor that needed polishing, which he set about to doing immediately. Artalise smirked as she looked back in the direction from whence they had come.

They had set out a few hours ago, in the Arl's own boat at Lady Isolde's insistence. Besides herself, Alistair, Leliana, and Oak, there were three of the Arl's men who were eager at the chance to sail in the Arl's boat, especially when Bann Teagan had mentioned that they could use the boat for fishing. Over the past couple of weeks the villagers had been terrorized by the walking undead, and it was only in the past four days that their lives had returned to some sense of normalcy. This was the first time the men had gotten the chance to resume their livelihood of fishing, and the size of the Arl's boat meant the potential for more catch for them to haul home. Needless to say, Artalise wasn't looking forward to the ride back to Redcliffe.

The spell for the breeze had been a relatively easy one for Artalise to control – one of the first spells she had ever performed actually. As with most apprentices, one of their first tasks to complete was both the lighting of and then the extinguishing of a candle's flame. She had always had an easy time lighting the candle – fire had always been her specialty – but calling forth air to put out the flame had challenged her. On her first try the wind she had called not only blew out the flame, but also sent everything else on the table tumbling to the floor, much to her distress. Enchanter Iona had not been impressed by her loss of control and it had meant days of dutiful practice and performance before she had won herself back into the Enchanter's good graces.

Soon her attention was diverted to Leliana who had brought out a very worn lute and was strumming a lively song that was most unlike the solemn tunes a devoted sister would have learned. Where she had learned the song, Artalise could only wonder, but the men on board instantly recognized it and started to sing along with her. Even Oak joined in on occasion with a happy yowl. Only herself and Alistair were left out of the merry-making. She glanced over at her fellow Warden, who seemed lost as well in his own thoughts.

"Something wrong, Alistair?" Artalise asked as she scooted closer to him, ensuring that he could hear her question and she would be able to hear his answer over the rowdy ballad.

"Um- No. Just you know- thinking."

There was a moment's pause before she spoke up again, "The flowers were lovely." She stated while arching an eyebrow and smiling crookedly.

It sounded like his breath got caught in his throat, "Ohhh….Morrigan told you, then?"

"She did, indeed."

Another few moments passed as Alistair tried to figure out how to respond, "It was the least I could do…" He looked over at her, nervous, yet his eyes were soft with emotion, "Really- thank you for saving Lady Isolde and Connor." He cleared his throat and looked away from her before continuing, "I…owe the Arl so much…"

Artalise frowned slightly and looked up, focusing her attention on the horizon. Her heart had suddenly clenched up as she remembered what had transgressed only a few nights before. While she understood Alistair's relief, it was clear that he did not understand what she had lost, "I killed a dear friend of mine, Alistair. Do not treat me like I have done something _noble _for you."

"That man poisoned the Arl!... He was a maleficar!" Alistair exclaimed, loudly enough for the keen ears of Leliana to cast a slightly worried look over at the two, though she kept singing along with the men.

She gritted her teeth. Implied within his exclamation was the question of why should she feel guilty for sacrificing someone for the greater good- especially when that someone had brought ruin to so many. Perhaps at one point she too had seen the world in black and white. But after Ostagar, Jowan, and the demon suddenly everything seemed to be seen in shades of grey- _How fitting for a Grey Warden!_

"People…make mistakes, Alistair."

Alistair was clearly confounded by the direction of the conversation, "What? I can't believe I am hearing this…"

"Alistair, I knew that no one in the world would mourn the loss of Jowan except for myself. Jowan was my first _friend_ at the Circle, He was my _best_ friend for over a decade " she added with a slight emphasis, her eyes narrowed as she looked over at Alistair to ensure he understood what she was saying, "but I knew he was most expendable. And in the eyes of many, including himself, worthy of death. That, however, does not mean I took his life easily."

Alistair said nothing in response, instead he had his eyes focused on the floor of the boat, and his brow was wrinkled as he tried to comprehend what she had said. Or he was trying to figure out how she could think such things. Artalise pressed her lips together as she looked out to the shore barely visible from where they were in the lake, losing herself to her thoughts.

Alistair was templar-trained - and she knew the effects of their training all to well. From the moment they entered the Chantry, they were told one thing, and told it over and over again until it became part of who they were- the Chantry was right, the mages were wrong. Alistair claimed to not be the most religious- of which she was ever so thankful to hear as it opened the possibility that perhaps he would, someday, realize that the _way _the Chantry taught him to think was as specious as _what_ he had been taught. Surely after learning one, the other would not be far behind?

Her thoughts were broken when the first few notes of a song danced its way to Artalise's ears. She sighed before lightly combing her hand through the back of her hair absentmindedly. The frustration she had felt had dissipated a while ago and she was eager to make amends with the man she had now known the longest out of all her other companions. "May I ask a question?" she asked hesitantly.

Alistair started in surprise at hearing her voice, clearly having been lost in his own thoughts. He blinked rapidly a couple of times and lightly shook his head as he finally looked over at her, "You may."

She bit her lip and smiled to herself at the question she had suddenly had pop into her head, "I…I was wondering where exactly all the horses are in Ferelden? The…Arl's stables looked rather empty. And the books I read all seemed to include them…"

Alistair suddenly chuckled a little bit, rubbing a finger across his forehead as he looked over at her in amusement, "I believe that is the last possible question I was expecting to hear."

"Oh? I would have thought it would have been 'have you ever licked a lamppost in winter?'" she countered playfully.

His only answer for a few seconds was to blink and stare at her blankly, "_What_?"

Artalise giggled and waved him off, "Sorry – it was Circle joke. Couldn't resist"

"Well…you would definitely be correct in saying that would be the _last_ question I would be expecting, as I wouldn't be expecting that at all. I don't even understand it. Why would you mages be talking about _lampposts_ and _winter_, anyways?"

Artalise shrugged, still grinning. Some things were better to keep to oneself.

Alistair still looked baffled, "Ahh…well, then what does it _mean, _then? Surely you can tell me that?"

Artalise's grin turn to a sly smile as her eyelids closed halfway and she leaned towards Alistair's right ear, causing him to suddenly sit up straight, his eyes wide in surprise, "Have _you_ ever _licked _a _lamppost_ in winter?" she said softly, yet throatily, noting the shiver that went up the Templar's spine as her breath lightly caressed his ear lobe. She quickly brought herself back up and wiped all suggestive looks off her face, "_That's_ what it means." She said as her smirk returned.

After a few moments, his hands on his knees unclenched and he shook his head again as if to clear his thoughts, "Umm, well yes. Yes. Ahh…ummm…didn't you ask a question about horses?" He asked, rushing through the last sentence nervously.

She nodded her head and, still smiling as he regained his composure before he answered her question.

"When I was still at Redcliffe, so that was what, twe-" he shuddered and stopped mid-word, "Wait, I don't want to even _think_ about how long it's been. It'll make me feel too old. Anyways, when I was still Arl Eamon's ward, there was a mysterious disease that nearly wiped out not only his herd, but most of Ferelden's herds as well. He was devastated, if I remember correctly, but on the upside for me, the stables smelled _a lot _better." Alistair flashed a grin before continuing, " The horses that remained had a hard time giving birth too, as I recall. Most foals even today are still-born. Something in the grass, maybe..." He reached up and scratched his brow as he searched deeper in his memories for recollections, "There were rumors, of course, that the Orlesians were behind it, but nothing was ever proven. People did think it strange however, that only Ferelden's horses seemed to be affected by it….but that was all long ago." He glanced over at her with a slightly arched eyebrow, " May I ask why the interest in such a topic?"

She smiled to herself "In the Tower, I would read various history books of Ferelden. Their descriptions of figures like The Rebel Queen, Queen Rowan and King Maric always included a large, dashing war steed that would carry the knights they lead to victory against the Orlesian-allied armies…" She paused a moment before continuing, lifting her eyes to the sky as if lost in thought, "In my mind, that is what heroes looked like – strong men and women clad in the most beautiful armor, swords stretched out to the sky on a rearing steed. Leading armies to victory. Saving Ferelden." She was going to say more, but let her voice drift off as she suddenly became self-conscious of just how child-like she sounded.

Alistair, on the other hand, looked bemused at the explanation.

"Well, dear lady, I think you are going to have to change your expectations of what heroes are. For one thing, not only do we not have horses, but you, " He looked pointedly at her, "Would crumble to the ground faster than a tower of cards on a windy day if you _ever_ had to wear a suit of armor in order to save Ferelden." He paused a moment, cocking his head to the side as an idea came to him, "Though, if you really need a steed, there seem to be plenty of donkeys walking around. And oxen."

Artalise snorted, "Oh yes, can you imagine Queen Rowan leading a cavalry of donkeys against the Orlesian chevaliers? We would have won the battle only because the Orlesians would have died laughing!"

Alistair slapped his thigh, "Brilliant idea! That is what we shall do- we shall mount a cavalry of soldiers mounted on the finest Ferelden steeds against the darkspawn- an army of asses!"

"Only if you agree to lead it." Artalise quipped.

"I feel as if there was a subtle dig at me in that statement."

She grinned, "Seriously though, even at Ostagar, the King, _the King of Ferelden, _was not mounted. What sort of king goes to battle without a horse?"

Alistair shrugged, "The Royal stable master would be able to tell you more, but I imagine it is because there are not enough horses to spare. Those that are fit for war are needed for breeding, as it were."

Artalise was going to say more when her eyes were drawn to the Tower that seemed to erupt from the very water of the lake. The place that had been her home for at least the past twelve years. Seeing it again was bittersweet.

"You nervous about returning…hmm…home?" Alistair asked, noting the direction of her gaze.

She smiled sardonically , "Not at all. The only person who will object to my presence is Knight-Commander Greagoir, but that really goes without saying seeing I am what I am, and he is what he is."

Alistair had been wondering about the circumstances that had brought her to the Grey Wardens for some time – Duncan had always been tightlipped about the way he found his recruits, not saying a word and allowing the Grey Warden to tell his brothers and sisters when he or she felt the time was right. _Perhaps now is a good time_. "Why would he object?"

Artalise sighed and smoothed out her robes and she remembered what had occurred in the Tower that night. "It concerns Jowan. _The maleficar_." She added the second sentence while looking pointedly at Alistair before continuing. He flushed a little as he got her point. "He was in love with a Tower Sister and sought to destroy his phylactery and flee with her to the outside world. I-…I was bidden by the First Enchanter to aid Jowan, knowing that what I would do was technically against the law of the Circle. Greagoir wanted to enforce the law, even though First Enchanter Irving had said that all I had done I did under _his_ orders. Duncan was present and offered me the opportunity to become a Grey Warden instead of dealing with those two bickering over my fate. I'd always been curious of the world outside the Tower. And so" She spread her hands beside her and smiled, "Here I am." She tilted her head to the side, eyeing the other Warden, "And how, if I may, did you end up as a Grey Warden?"

It was only fair that she ask, and only fair that he answer, "It was…not quite a year ago, I think. Our Knight-Commander Glavin held a tournament in Duncan's honor, knowing that he had come to the Order of the Templars to find a recruit for the Grey Wardens. I…I was not permitted to fight that day as I _apparently _had done something naughty the day prior," Alistair grinned wolfishly at the memory, "So I watched from the sidelines until Duncan convinced Ser Glavin to allow me to fight. I did so, and I fought well until I came up against the three best Warriors in the Order. Against each of them I was defeated, yet _I_ was the one chosen for the Grey Warden." He chuckled to himself, "When Duncan told me to go fetch my belongings, I couldn't run fast enough. I was so eager to leave." He smiled a little when he said the last part, but then his eyes suddenly saddened. …_Duncan…_

Artalise watched the change in emotion come over her fellow Grey Warden, slowly realizing that grief for Duncan had resurfaced.

"He was a good man, Alistair, and he will never be forgotten." She repeated.

"No, I know. It's just- It's just still hard to realize that he's gone…" He breathed in deeply, recollecting himself, while his hand went to the place on his chest where he knew Duncan's key lay.

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

Artalise's jaw was hurting by the time they reached the heavy door separating the wings to the Apprentice Quarters. All around her was death, the now empty husks of the friends she had known nearly her entire life. She had tried kept her eyes focused on the door in front of her in the hallway, which was blissfully nearly empty of bodies, but her gaze couldn't help but be drawn to each open door, and the death that still lingered in the silent rooms. Her friends' bodies laid scattered across the floor, some easily recognizable and some it was difficult to tell if they had ever been human or elf. Again, the inner dichotomy she felt building in herself resurfaced – part of her, the Circle mage, just wanted to curl into a little ball and cry. Her stronger part, the part she only realized after the demon pulled it from her darkest depths, was slowly overwhelming the other. This part raged at the demons and abominations who had killed her friends.

_Who had torn the Veil so much in the Tower, of all places, that would allow demons to pass so easily to this world to wreck their havoc?_ She gritted her teeth and picked up the pace- Oak following dutifully on her heels, passing a rather stunned Alistair and Leliana who had started to murmur various Chantry verses.

When they walked through the heavy door, the first thing the elf noticed was how the air was thick with magic. A monstrous growl towards the opposite end of the room drew her attention and she gasped. _Demon_. Memories from her Harrowing flew back to her, but before she or any other member of her party could respond, a mage with her white hair loosely bound up in a bun, sent the demon back into the Fade with a flash of magic. The mage turned around and a hand flew to Artalise's mouth. _Wynne?_

Another mage had moved to Wynne's side with a concerned look on her face, most likely whispering of their arrival to the senior enchanter. Wynne looked up, at first suspicious of the group, but then when she recognized Artalise she ran over to the younger mage and embraced her. "Artalise? How-how did you survive Ostagar-? The Grey Wardens were down in the valley- they were all slaughtered I thought…" Wynne asked her voice trailing off as the older senior enchanter remembered the grisly scenes of that battle.

"Alistair and myself were bidden to light the tower of Ishal..." Artalise suddenly stopped when she realized she was going to have to talk about Morrigan and Flemeth -Wynne was well-known for her disdain of apostates, "Senior Enchanter Wynne, it is a long story, and I do not think now is the time..."

Wynne laughed and nodded her head, "How true. Seeing you survived Ostagar made me forget for a moment the crisis we face." she stated with tired eyes as a hand brushed back a strand of unruly hair.

" Enchanter Wynne, what happened here? The Templars knew nothing but that abominations and demons roamed these halls." Artalise asked urgently.

Wynne's face turned to worry when she heard the word _templars_, "They spoke true. Tell me – what of the Templars?"

Artalise knew that the real question Wynne was asking was - _Have they called for the Right?_ "They have….sent for the Right, Enchanter Wynne. Greagoir expects it to arrive soon."

Wynne nodded sorrowfully, "I had feared they might. While it is true that many have fallen, there are many that still remain…" the senior enchanter started to pace as her voice trailed off again.

"Enchanter Wynne – please, what happened here?" Artalise repeated.

That stopped her from pacing as she focused her gaze intently on Artalise, "The origins of this crisis is a long story as well, but if you come here _to help_, " her gaze intensified as if she wanted confirmation from Artalise that _yes_ the Grey Wardens were here to help the mages. It almost offended Artalise that the woman would think she would do anything other than that, but she set those feeling aside and nodded her head, allowing Wynne to continue, "perhaps it would be prudent to tell you." Wynne took in a deep breath before speaking again, "At Ostagar, we, the mages, were on the bridge overlooking the valley and casting our spells against the darkspawn horde when we saw that Teyrn Loghain turned his forces around. We knew the battle was lost then, and so we too retreated." The woman started to pace again, shaking her head, "Perhaps it was cowardly, but we knew that we would do more for Ferelden while alive…The darkspawn came after us, but eventually we were free from them. The uninjured mages left to return to the Tower, while the injured and healers stayed behind, to aid others who escaped from their deaths at Ostagar. Uldred was among those who left immediately." Her face darkened. "When we finally returned to the Circle, we learned that Uldred had convinced the Circle to actually side with Teyrn Loghain – after he betrayed the King!" she practically shouted in anger, "I told Irving what had happened at Ostagar at the first opportunity I had. Irving believed me, and said he was going to confront Uldred about Loghain at a meeting. That meeting occurred… days ago. I did not attend initially as I was healing an apprentice who had had a rather unfortunate accident… but when I walked up to the chamber to see what the result was, all I heard terrible screams coming from within it and abominations and demons streaming forth from the door. I saw Irving inside, but when I moved to help him, he bade me to rescue those whom I could." She paused in her pacing and spread her hands wide and looked around at the few mages and children in the room, "which is what I did, and why we are here."

The lines in Wynne's face furrowed even deeper and Artalise could see the tension in the older mage's cheeks as her story had progressed. Artalise was surprised, however, when the other mage closed the distance between them quickly and grabbed Artalise's arms, forcing her to look directly at Wynne " There isn't much time. We must find Irving – surely he will know what to do…if he still lives" Wynne's voice started to crack with emotion near the end of the last sentence.

Leliana broke in. She had been watching all the children, who huddled together with terrified looks on their faces as their elders did what little they could to calm them down, "Wait, but what about the children? Can we just leave them all here like this?"

Wynne dropped her hands from Artalise's arms, turning to face the minstral, "If we kill everything as we progress through the tower, the children should be okay."

Suddenly, Artalise realized what Wynne was saying, "Wait- _we?_ We? Are you coming with us then Wynne?_"_

The older woman nodded grimly. Artalise knew by the look in her eyes that there was no arguing with the senior enchanter - her decision was made. And while a Grey Warden, technically, Artalise didn't think she had the strength to overcome twelve years of indoctrination and stand up to the human mage.

Alistair cleared his throat, "Then I think we should leave somebody behind. In case we miss a demon or two. Or three. Those blighters can be _sneaky._"

Artalise nodded her head, looking at her now four other party members, before her eyes landed on Oak. She leaned down and patted her knees, reaching into one of her pockets to pull out a treat for her mabari, "Come here Oak!"

The mabari looked as if he already knew what she was going to ask of him, and he didn't like it at all. He whined, but did walk to her, his ears back and tail between his legs. She patted the hound's head as he munched on the treat, "I know you want to go and kill some nasty dirty demons, but there is no one that I would trust more to protect children than you. Besides, " She smiled and ruffled the fur on the top of his head, "I know for a fact that these children _love_ dogs, so you'll finally get all the attention you deserve, OK?" Oak whined again, before letting out what almost seemed like a sigh and trotted over to the mass of huddled frightened children. The presence of the mabari instantly made some of the children forget some of the horror they had witnessed so recently as they tried to get closer to the dog to pet him. Oak licked a little elf girl in the face and she squealed with laughter. The sight warmed Artalise's heart and she relished this last scene of happiness before they stepped into the dark unknown.

She looked over at her other companions, who all had smiles on their face as they watched the scene, feeling the same way that she did, before the turned to attention to the door that led to the rest of the Tower. The door crackled with magic as the doorway glowed blue from the arcane barrier Wynne had erected. Artalise couldn't help but be impressed by the other mage's skill and power at her command. She caught Wynne's attention and jerked her head towards the barrier, "Wynne, if you would?"

The woman nodded, raising her staff, and concentrating on the barrier. There was a flash of light, and then the barrier was down.

They rushed through the door without another word, the eyes of the mages, the children and Oak on them. Oak let out a little whine, but then turned and licked the face of a distraught little boy, instantly causing him to giggle and flail out at the mabari to make him stop.

"Maker protect them" whispered a mage as she erected a much weaker barrier than the one Wynne had made, not knowing if her and the childrens' death would come from the demons or from the templars.

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

_A.N. If you were so unfortunate to read the first draft of this story, some parts of this chapter may seem very similar. Some parts I liked so much I couldn't resist including...in particular the attempt at explaining why there are no horses seen in the game! I hope that part made some sense..._

_A.N. Alistair back story is from the official wiki...I was so happy when I found it because it was such a lovely story...check it out if you haven't already_

_A.N. Comments and critiques are both appreciated! Feel free to let me know what you like, or what you didn't like... _

_A.N. Next installment probably coming sometime in the middle of next week._

_A.N. Lastly...Yes, this part is following the storyline of the Circle fairly closely (my muse wasn't so helpful on this part...) but I have added my own personal flair to it, so hopefully the following chapters will be as interesting as the rest. Don't worry - there will be no mention of the Fade. :D_


	19. Chapter 15:  Broken Circle, Broken Heart

_A.N. Much appreciation to my faithful reviewers/readers of fussycat, TanithAeyrs, Arsinoe de Blassenville, amanda weber for in turn expressing their appreciation for this story. :) And I am glad to have you along for the ride, Yoly! And of course, thanks for reading all ye silent ones! :) _

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

"Poor Mr. Wiggums…."

Artalise froze when she first opened the door, shocked to hear an actual voice instead of a ferocious roar. She hadn't been planning on going into the small dungeon that the Circle had, as it was in the opposite direction of the stairwell heading to the roof, but knowing that the lives of the remainder of mages and apprentices relied on _every_ demon being killed, she had led her party to the dungeon.

Her eyes widened as she saw the bodies of three templars splayed out on the cool dungeon floor, in front of a closed cell. Wynne seemed reluctant to approach any further, but Artalise waved her on before calling to her a shield to reflect any spells thrown her way by the presumed mage occupant of the cell. She approached the cell cautiously, her body shimmering under the protection of her shield.

In the corner crouched a young man, his golden red hair pulled back into a ponytail, his head resting on arms folded on his knees. In one hand he held what looked to be a torn collar for a cat.

"Time for din-" He raised his head, and his eyes grew wide as they focused on Artalise, "Oh! What a surprise to see you here, my dear Artalise."

Artalise stood there, blinking as she tried to recover the power of speech. "Anders." was all she could get out.

"Glad to see you remember me! How've you been, m'dear?"

She glanced over at her other companions to see their reactions. Leliana looked fully bemused at her reaction while Alistair looked slightly suspicious. Wynne's concern was evident in her face, knowing full well of the relationship between the two of them, but she said nothing. The elf turned her attention back to Anders, "In this situation I am the one who should be asking questions." She stated crisply.

He bowed his head graciously, waving his hands towards the bars of his cell as if noting that he understood precisely what she was getting at.

"Have you added templar-slayer to your accomplishments Anders?"

He glanced over at the templar corpses and shrugged nonchalantly. "_I_ didn't do that."

Wynne crossed her arms and looked at Anders skeptically. Artalise merely pursed her lips and arched an eyebrow, "What happened here, then?"

Anders raised up the collar he held in his hand and nodded towards it, "Mr. Wiggums did it."

"…Mr…Wiggums?" Alistair suddenly asked from behind her, the laughter in his voice clearly evident.

Anders ignored the other man's amusement and focused his attention on the two mages. "Mr. Wiggums was the dungeon mouser."

Artalise arched an eyebrow, now joining Wynne in skepticism, "Are you saying that a cat killed three templars?"

"Well…Mr. Wiggums _was_ a cat. Don't know if you noticed but the Veil is rather thin here and apparently a hunger demon was able to possess the poor thing. He always was the hungry sort. Constantly begged me for scraps."

Artalise and Wynne exchanged a glance. Ander's explanation for the dead templars sounded completely ridiculous, but perhaps there really was something to the saying that truth was stranger than fiction. Anders was prone to joking, but he rarely actually lied.

Alistair scoffed from behind her, "Oh come on- are you actually going to believe _that?"_

Anders gestured towards the corpses, "Take a look. Do they not look like they are in desperate need of an Antivan massage?"

The group turned their heads and looked at the dead templars. Their cheeks were drawn in, and their eyes seemed to be sunken into their sockets. They looked as if they had just crumpled to the ground, having lost all strength to stand. The gashes across their armor was not the product of any spell a mage could summon, but was clearly the work of huge claws. After looking at the bodies, Alistair's doubts seemed to be laid to rest – at the very least he said nothing more. Artalise lifted her head back up to look at Anders, careful to try to keep her voice and face devoid of emotions, though they raged ferociously inside her.

"When did they catch you?" she asked, trying to focus on the task at hand and trying to push her nearly-forgotten feelings for the mage aside.

"A few weeks ago." He grinned, "I made it too easy for them as all they had to do was follow the rumors of a hedge-healer. Lesson learned – next time avoid helping gossipy peasants."

Alistair snickered from behind Artalise while Leliana looked appalled. Artalise, on the other hand lost her fight to control her memories of Anders- they came flooding back to her, and with them her adoration for Anders. And with them, the hurt she had felt when she discovered he had left without saying a word to her, "Why didn't you tell me that you were going to escape? I could've helped…." She asked pleadingly as her hands gripped the bars of the cell.

Anders arched an eyebrow, "Oh? Like you helped Jowan escape?"

It felt like he had just punched her in the gut. "You…you heard about that?" she practically whispered.

"Templars can be remarkably chatty. Especially when it comes to lovely mages- and even more so when said lovely mage was a well known…._companion_ to their prisoner." Unbeknownst to Artalise, Alistair eyes suddenly flashed down on Anders, causing the jailed mage to arch an eyebrow and smirk knowingly.

She rubbed the side of her head while scrunching her eyes shut as she tried to overcome the flood of emotions that threatened to overcome her, "I…I wouldn't have done that, Anders! I lo-"

"Yes, you would have, Arty." He stated, cutting her off, "You may have listened to me ranting about the Circle, you may have nodded your head, pretending to agree, but you were always loyal to Irving – to the Circle. You would have run to Irving and told him everything just like you did with Jowan." He said nonchalantly as he leaned his head against the back wall of his cell.

And now an uppercut to the jaw. It hurt even more because she realized that he was right. Artalise's grips on the bars tightened as her body threatened to crumble to the ground. No one said anything for a few minutes, before Wynne cleared her throat, "It would be best for us to move on…Our chances to find Irving grow smaller every moment we wait here," she stated softly, but firmly.

Anders smirked and rolled his eyes upwards at an unknown thought while Artalise lifted her head up to stare at her past lover. They met eyes before Artalise suddenly took a deep breath and straightened up. She backed away from the cell, while holding her hand under her nose to help her hold back her tears, and looked at the slain templar bodies. "Which one has the key, Anders?" She asked weakly.

Wynne scoffed, but Anders looked up with interest, and pointed to the right side of his cell, "Ser Yantek had it, I believe. Farthest one to my right, your left."

It didn't take long for Artalise to figure out where the templar jailor had the key on his body. She grasped the key firmly and started to walk over to the door, when Wynne's voice suddenly sounded, "Are you actually going to let him out, Artalise? The First Enchanter _himself_ put Anders here for him to await his punishment."

Artalise pursed her lips as she turned her head to look at Wynne, "I can't very well leave him locked in this cage, can I? In the Tower's current situation wouldn't that be practically condemning him to death? Is _that_ what the First Enchanter wanted?"

Wynne had no answer, but merely looked at Artalise disapprovingly as she inserted the key into the lock. With a loud click, the lock released the door which swung slightly outward. Artalise said nothing to Anders as he slowly rose to his feet. Instead, she found herself inexplicitly retreating to Alistair's side. Anders then sauntered out of his prison cell, looking with particular interest at the templar corpses. He then shrugged to himself and grabbed his staff that was leaning against the opposite wall before turning around to look at Artalise.

"I suppose this is where we part again."

"I suppose."

"At least this time you know I am leaving. _And_ you even had a part in it- just like you always wanted! " He teased slightly. Unfortunately, Artalise was not in the mood for humor.

"Indeed." She stated, her face and voice once again empty of her feelings for the mage.

Nothing was said for a few moments before Anders suddenly closed the distance between them and leaned down towards Artalise, his mouth drawing close to hers before his eyes widened in shock as a sharp slap sounded across his cheek. He looked down at the glaring elf and shrugged innocently "Can't blame a man for trying, can you?" he grinned, shamelessly.

"Just get out of here, Anders." She said coldly as she put a restraining hand on Alistair as started to take a step towards Anders.

His brows furrowed together for a few moments, as if he was trying to figure out what she was thinking, before he took a few steps back, and after bowing melodramatically to his rescuers he quickly turned and ran out of the dungeon.

"…and be safe." Artalise whispered.

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

Artalise ran towards the office of the First Enchanter, Wynne close on her heels. She knew that Irving wasn't go to be there and when she rounded the corner to look inside the office, she was not surprised to see it empty. Morrigan's words suddenly came back to Artalise – her request for Artalise to keep a look out for a thick black grimoire. The text was apparently written in a tongue that Morrigan had rightly assumed Artalise did not know, so Morrigan had gone so far as to write out the title and a few sentences in it, so Artalise would know what to look for. So far, her searching had turned up naught. Perhaps though, her luck would change.

She started to enter the First Enchanter's room, and was shocked to feel Wynne's hand on her arm, holding her back, "There is nothing in there for us. Let us move on," Wynne said sharply.

Artalise's brows furrowed together as she looked up at Wynne, "There might be something in here to help us." She stated as she shook her arm free and took some steps into the office.

Wynne followed close on her heels, "This is the First Enchanter's Office! What are you expecting to find?"

Artalise rolled her eyes, _had Wynne always been like this?_, and glanced around the room, but saw nothing that resembled the book Morrigan told her about. Pursing her lips together, her eyes suddenly alighted on the First Enchanter's desk. She started towards it.

"Mage Surana! You will cease this instant!" commanded Wynne, grabbing her staff.

"Alistair!" Artalise shouted as she felt the air start to crackle behind her with magic. She grabbed her own staff and spun around, only to see the older mage crumple to the ground as Alistair held his hand out towards prone older mage. "….Hurry…." He said through gritted teeth.

Artalise motioned for Leliana to follow her as she ran to the back of the desk, "Look for a large, black, and old book" she stated as she started to open drawers and rummage through the various trinkets and papers.

She was started to fear that this was all for naught when suddenly Leliana let out a little exclamation, and lifted a large book out of a bottom drawer and placed it on the desk. Artalise grinned and opened the cover, and nodded as she saw the familiar script. "This is it." She swung her pack around and placed the dark tome in it. As she adjusted pack on her back she walked over to the recumbent form of Wynne. She nodded briefly at Alistair, who then lowered his arm. Wynne brought her hand to her head and looked up at the glaring Artalise.

"I am a mage of the Circle no longer, Enchanter Wynne. It's rules no longer have a hold on me." She paused before adding for effect, "_You _no longer have any power over me."

When Wynne said nothing, instead grabbing her staff to help her rise, Artalise continued, "I am a Grey Warden. I have a treaty that calls upon the mages to aid us in times of Blight. If you wish to follow us, you will do so under that auspice and will _not_ question us. " She jerked her heads to the door, "Or you may leave and go back to the children."

The other mage took a few moments to answer, her breathing deep, her brows furrowed together as she contemplated what had just happened "You have…changed a lot since your time in the Tower." Wynne noted with a sigh.

Artalise crossed her arms and scoffed as Anders' words rung in ears - _just like you did with Jowan_- She would be a tool of the Circle no longer. She would not be like Wynne and cling to its rules at the expense of those she held dear. After all Morrigan had done for her, the least Artalise could do was bring her back a book. "Do not judge me, _Wynne_." She emphasized the enchanter's name, hoping the other would notice the drop in the title – the change in their relationship.

Wynne noticed. The woman nodded in reluctant understanding, "So I see, Artalise. I will…follow this through – I-I must see if Irving still lives."

Artalise nodded her head as well and marched out of the room. Alistair quickly came up to her side and whispered, "Please do not ask me to do that again. I felt like I was slapping my grandmother across her cheery little wrinkled face. If I had a grandmother that is…."

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

There was an eeriness on the fourth floor- it seemed too quiet compared to the other floors they were in. Demons and abominations had howled and raged against them – this time the first few rooms they entered were actually empty. Therefore, they were able to easily here the faint murmuring of what sounded like a woman's voice, and the jilted response from a male from down the hall.

The companions all exchanged a look, and Alistair raised up his shield in front of him as he entered the room from which the voices emanated, Leliana following closely behind with him with her bow raised. When Alistair merely stopped partway, lowering his shield and seeming to stand transfixed by something, and Leliana reacting the same way, Artalise entered, followed closely by a reluctant Wynne, and she gently pushed aside the stunned Leliana and Alistair to see what the matter was.

Before them stood a desire demon – but unlike the one they had met, and killed, on the previous floor, this one actually seemed to be holding a conversation with their charmed templar. It was almost touching to hear the exchange between the templar and demon – concern about "their children" and "bedtime stories." No wonder Alistair and Leliana had been unsure of how to react- since when does something evil express concern over such things?

The demon turned around to face the group, glancing at all of them, but seemed most interested in Artalise, focusing her attention on the woman. Artalise did the same, and the two stood there staring at each other for a few moments.

The demon suddenly smiled, "I recognize you….but you do not seem to recognize me, elf?" it asked in its sultry voice. The templar behind the demon just stood there with blank eyes focused straight ahead.

Artalise's brows furrowed together – she had only seen a desire demon twice before. The most recent time had been on the floor below, the time previous to that….

Her eyes suddenly widened, and the demon's smile grew, "Ah. So you do remember?"

Artalise could feel the hot stares of her companions, particularly coming from both Wynne and Alistair. She nodded curtly, "I do."

The demon eyed the armed templar beside Artalise curiously for a moment, before hovering a little bit closer to the elf. When Alistair didn't make a motion to attack, she came even closer. Artalise bit her lip as the demon's aura washed over her – filling her with want again and causing her heart to race. The gasps she heard from her companions told her that they felt the same.

"Then you remember our deal, do you not?" It asked, an ethereal hand reaching out and gently touching Artalise's cheek with a tender caress, it's amber eyes focused intently on Artalise's.

She nodded weakly.

"Then you will go, and leave me here undisturbed. As is only fair, yes?" it questioned softly, as it brought its full mouth towards Artalise's ear.

Artalise tried to push the demon's influence out from inside her…but she was not able to. The demon felt this, and smiled, "Do not fight it, elf. It cannot be fought."

Artalise closed her eyes and suddenly threw herself backwards, attempting to get some distance between herself and the demon, to get herself out from the reach of its aura. She took in a deep breath as she felt her heart rate return to normal.

"I will abide by our deal, demon. We will leave you in peace." Artalise stated before she turned around and walked out of the room.

The demon smiled and pulled away from the group – back towards her own templar, and relinquishing her hold over the humans. They all had to catch their breath, and seemed shock at what had happened. As the demon lightly caressed the face of her possessed, Leliana and Alistair took a few steps back towards the door to exit. Wynne had already done so and was leaning heavily against the wall in the hallway. Leliana took a few halting steps over to where Artalise stood pondering.

"What…deal was she talking about, Artalise?" Leliana inquired. It was clear by the looks in both Alistair's and Wynne's eyes that they were wondering the same thing.

Artalise bit her lip and shook her head, "It….I-I will explain later. There are more urgent things to take care of right now, yes?" She stated nervously and turned to walk further down the hallway. A strong grip on her arm prevented her from going any further, and she tensed up when she saw the hand was armored

"Did you really make a deal with a demon?" asked a voice from behind her. It was Alistair's- his voice making it clear that he was in a state of disbelief.

She took a deep breath and then turned to face her companions, "Yes. I made a deal with it."

Alistair's eyes widened in shock and he instantly released her arm, backing away a few feet. Leliana and Wynne both took a few steps towards her.

"After all the Circle has taught you….you made a deal with a demon?" Wynne asked, her voice ripe with disapproval and no small amount of anger.

"It had made a deal with a little boy – I-" she paused a moment before continuing. Would she tell the truth or lie? Glancing at the angry faces of both Wynne and Alistair, her decision was practically made for her- she was eager to bring this subject to a close, quickly. , "…I didn't trust myself to fight off a desire demon!" She turned a pleading look to Wynne, "A rage or hunger demon, I might have considered myself capable of defeating – but a desire demon? Do you think you could take one yourself, Wynne?" The fury in the older woman's face disappeared at that point as she pondered if she, herself, would consider herself strong enough to deal with a desire demon alone, "So when the demon offered me a deal – one where she would leave the boy for a time in exchange for me letting her go, why should I not have considered it?"

"Hold on- for a time? Leave Connor_, for a time_?" Alistair asked angrily.

Artalise nodded, but then held her hand up to stop further protests as she continued with her lie, "Yes, that was her-its original offer. However, I told it that there were many places where the Veil is thin – surely she, no, it" she corrected herself again, "could easily find itself another…victim. That way it could…enjoy our reality much sooner than if it waited for Connor to no longer be of import to me."

"So everybody wins" Leliana observed, seemingly slightly amused. Artalise could practically see the exaggerated tale of this episode being spun in the bard's mind. It would be a lie, of course, but since when did a bard's tale solely tell the truth?

"Except that templar" Alistair countered as he jerked his head in the direction of the room, his face still clouded in thought over what Artalise had said.

"He lives this way – and he seemed happy with all the talk of children and bed-time stories" Leliana argued back, "Remember that desire demon we fought before? All her victims attacked us, and even after we killed her she still seemed to retain a hold on their minds. Should we kill him?" She added, nodding slightly to Artalise to indicate that she, at least, approved of her actions.

Artalise meanwhile watched everyone as her heart and mind raced. Would they believe her?

Wynne had been watching Artalise the whole time with an intent look on her face as if she was trying to read her. After Leliana had finished talking, Wynne sighed, nodding her head slowly, but she still looked with some distrust at Artalise, "Perhaps that is true. However, as Artalise stated before, there are more urgent matters. This will be discussed later."

Artalise wondered if that last statement was a threat.

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

Artalise skidded to a stop as soon as she entered the room that had the stairs that led to the Harrowing Chamber, her eyes focused on a kneeling figure behind an arcane wall. _No…._

The rest of her party ran in and gathered around the kneeling man. Artalise felt a cleansing wave come over her as Alistair tried to dispel the wall – but it was to no avail. Whoever had set it up was powerful indeed.

"Begone foul demons! You shall not take my soul!" the templar behind the magical wall shouted at them as he lowered his head into his trembling hands.

She remembered that voice! She quickly walked up to the kneeling templar, gently pushing Leliana and Alistair aside so she stood in front of the man, "Cullen – stay calm! Don't you recognize me?"

He glanced up quickly, gasping as his eyes widened in shocked as he recognized her. "They are getting more powerful! Crawling through my mind….knowing my secrets….my darkest desires…."

Artalise blanched, and she felt the eyes of her other companions on her. "Cullen – what are you talking about?"

"I have atoned for this sin! The Maker will forgive me….you shall not have me!" He shouted again before going silent for a few moments and looked up, his eyes widen in shock to see people still before him, "I-I don't understand. That has al-always worked before…."

" Ser Cullen…we're not apparitions. We aren't the work of some blood mage – we are real" Wynne said gently.

The templar got shakily to his feet. "I…then why are you here? What are more _mages_ suppose to accomplish? Have you not done enough already?" Cullen practically spat out, his voice laced with venom as he glared at the two mages.

"Where is the First Enchanter, Cullen?" Artalise asked instead, not knowing how to deal with this man who had once adored her…and now despised her.

"He is…was…upstairs….Maker, the screams coming from there!"

Artalise took one last look at Cullen before nodding her head and turning to go. She was eager to leave this shadow of a man she once knew.

"Wait – please…you must destroy all who are up there!"

Artalise spun around and looked at Cullen in surprise, "What? There could be mages still alive up there!"

"It has been….so long…none can exist – not with those screams!"

"You would have me kill an innocent?"

"Better an innocent dies than an abomination or blood mage lives! Better a mage dies now to stop them from becoming what they all secretly aspire to be!"

That statement caught Artalise by surprise – it sounded so unlike the Cullen she knew from just a few short months ago, "Cullen, what has happened to you?" she exclaimed, losing herself to her emotions for the templar.

"My eyes have been opened, my sins have been cleansed. You mages will bring death and destruction on all who deal with you! Thedas will not be safe until we are rid of all of you!" Cullen shouted out, pointing directly at her, his eyes crazed with hate.

"He remained free from the control blood magic…but his mind has been broken from the strain of resistance" whispered Wynne, her voice full of sympathy for the templar's plight.

Artalise brought her hand to her mouth and shook her head, not wanting to understand the words Cullen had spoken, nor heeding the reasons stated by Wynne. Without saying a word she turned away from the now maniacally praying templar and walked up the stairs, once more trying to fight off chaos as she focused determinedly on reciting lines from the Litany that they had found on Niall's body. She stumbled over the words, and was thankful that Leliana would be the one in charge to reciting it, but at the very least the effort it took for Artalise to try to remember the words kept her mind away from thinking about all what had happed since she stepped foot in her old home.

Wynne and Leliana followed her closely up the stairs. Alistair, however, knelt beside the templar and seemed to say something to him. Cullen gave no acknowledgement as the Alistair stood back up and followed his companions to the chamber above, his templar senses tingling at the amount of dark magic he felt emanating from the Chamber.

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

"Leliana!" Artalise shouted to the bard. The woman glanced in her direction and then yelled out the Litany as she notched another arrow in her bow and let it fly true, straight towards the abomination that had once been Enchanter Uldred.

The thing howled in rage as it was thwarted once more to bring to its side another ally. The few it had had lay scattered across the floor, dead now.

They had been fighting for what seemed like hours – Alistair hacking and slashing at the abomination, aided by the magical inflows from Wynne when his strokes grew too weak, or the abomination got a lucky strike against him. Artalise had focused on maintaining flames on Alistair's sword and ensuring each one of Leliana's arrows had been lit.

Slowly, Artalise started to move towards the back of the abomination, who ignored the movements of the slight mage in favor of the heavily armored templar in front of it. When she finally saw the fully deformed back of the abomination, she gathered all her power to her and from her hands erupted a tempest of flames. The thing howled in agony as the flames licked over its grotesque flesh, filling the room with the stench of burnt and rotting flesh. That gave Alistair the opening he needed to drive his sword straight into the beast's throat. As he withdrew his blade, the abomination stumbled backwards, and then slowly fell to the floor, its form twitching for a few moments before going still. With the demise of the abomination, its hold over the other mages in the room ceased, and they started to move and whisper to each other.

Leliana handed Artalise one of her knives, and the three of them, with Alistair using his sword, started to walk over towards the groggy mages, to cut the ropes that bound them. Leliana and Alistair started on opposite ends, while Wynne and Artalise ran immediately to the prone figure of the First Enchanter.

"A delight to see you again, Artalise," the First Enchanter said weakly, "and I am glad to see you are still alive Wynne." Wynne smiled in greeting as she placed her hand on Irving's shoulder, healing the wounds that decorated his old body while Artalise sawed through the ropes that bound his hands. However, as soon as the ropes fell apart she shook her head to try to shake the feeling of dizziness that had overcome her. She hear gasps coming from all around her as the mages suddenly felt their power being torn away. Leliana and Alistair looked up in confusion as one by one the mages fell to the ground again.

Artalise too, fell, her dazed eyes catching the sight of a crazed templar running straight for her with his sword held above his head. Then, her head cracked against the cold stone floor and the last image she saw in her mind was that of a pristine white lily.

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

_A.N. I think this was my longest chapter yet. Sorry about the length, but I couldn't figure out a good place really to split it up. Which, actually, might be a good thing for you all. _

_A.N. Yes, I know that Mr. Wiggums probably didn't die during Anders first imprisonment after his first escape attempt...but, this is *my* DA universe so I get to warp the canon a little bit. :)_

_A.N. I actually had been kind of fond of Wynne (except when she would get her nose all in my Warden's love bizness.) However, my husband was playing through a little while ago and had just met Wynne in the tower...and she actually attacked him! I had never known this was a possibility, and my view of Wynne has been changed ever since. I hope she is still somewhat believable._

_A.N. As always, comments and criticism are always welcomed! Just be prepared for a long response if you bring up a point that you think needs addressed. I can be wordy on occasion...:0) And I swear I will get better at replying to reviews...Sometimes I just don't know what to say other than "Thanks!" - so if I haven't replied, consider this your "Thanks!" _


	20. Chapter 16:  Realization

_A.N. May the lives of amanda weber, Yoly, Arsinoe de Blassenville and kirbster676(even if you don't like my version of Alistair. ;)) be filled with as much happiness as I got when I read your gracious reviews. Also, cheers to halfevil333 (btw - the 333 is *genius* made me giggle so much. :)) and jackkel dragon for adding the story to alerts...and for all my silent readers, I am glad to have you long for the ride! _

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

"_Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.  
Foul and corrupt are they  
Who have taken His gift  
And turned it against His children.  
They shall be named Maleficar, accursed ones.  
They shall find no rest in this world  
Or beyond."_

Leliana was startled when the "Canticle Of Transfigurations" echoed within the stone chamber, and even more so when the mage she was unbinding suddenly fell to his side. Only a quick movement on her part prevented his head from cracking against the hard floor. Unfortunately, Artalise had no such luck and Leliana noticed a small pool of red starting to form below her head.

But that is not where her attention was – it was instead focused on the charging templar that seemed intent on killing her friend. Alistair had thankfully noticed him as well and was running towards him, his shield held out in front of him. The two templars collided just mere paces from where Artalise had collapsed, the crazed one….her mind searched for his name…_Cullen_ falling to the floor, his sword skittering out of his immediate reach. While Alistair approached the fallen templar, his own sword pointing in the direction Cullen's neck, Leliana quickly skittered over to Artalise and pulled her away from the immediate area of the battle. As the bard looked around for some cloth to staunch the elf's wound, she felt a sudden tug on her leather armor. Turning to look around, she saw the fervernt eyes of an old bearded mage looking up at her.

"Please…have your friend….spare…Cullen…."

Leliana immediately spun around to see Alistair raising his sword to strike a final blow on the still Chant reciting Templar, "Alistair! Show mercy!"

The Grey Warden glanced over her way, showing her that he had heard her. He seemed to debate whether or not she would do as she asked, when he flipped the sword in his hand and struck the flat side of the blade against the man's head.

Leliana cringed. Surely there were better ways to deal with a man who was already crazed besides hitting him in his head? But what done was done.

The old man who had spoken to her got up haltingly and motioned Wynne to take a look at Artalise. Wynne pursed her lips slightly, as if she was holding back something she wanted to say, and went to the prone Artalise's side, resting her hand on top of the elf's disheveled hair. Leliana would have to fix that later.

"Will she be alright, Wynne?" The man asked, looking in Artalise's direction.

Wynne nodded her head, "Yes- her wound was not so bad. She just needs sleep right now."

He coughed slightly, watching Alistair gather a rope and use it to tie the still unconscious man's hands up before he looked at Leliana and smiled in greeting, "You have my thanks…ermm…your name?"

"Leliana."

"Leliana, and your friends have my thanks as well.. May I inquire as to what brings you to the Tower in such a timely fashion?" He asked, his voice weak and cracked from all that he had endured. Leliana was surprised that he had found the energy to speak.

"It is a long story…." She tried to remember the title she had heard Artalise murmur when the mage had first run over to this man – clearly he was important…_ah! There it is!_, "...First Enchanter, but our most pressing need is to have a healer sent to the Arl of Redcliffe's estate. "

"Oh? What ails the good Arl?"

"Truthfully – we do not know. They say he was poisoned and now he merely sleeps, his condition unchanging."

The First Enchanter and Wynne exchanged a glance, "Well, for the good you have done for us, sending our best healer will be the least we can do," He nodded in Wynne's direction, "Enchanter Wynne will return with you to Redcliffe and do what she can for the Arl."

Irving glanced over at Alistair, who was now lifting a barely conscious Cullen to his feet, "What is your friend's name, Leliana?"

"Alistair."

"Ser Alistair, would you be able to escort Ser Cullen downstairs?" Irving called out to the Grey Warden.

Alistair glanced over and nodded his head in the direction of Irving.

"First Enchanter, are you heading downstairs right now? What about Artalise?" Leliana inquired, looking down at the unconscious elf with sadness.

"Artalise will remain here – we have talented healers here and we will care for her until she awakens. If that will be fine with you?" He asked Leliana. When she nodded her assent, he continued, "Now, I imagine Greagoir would have called for the Right of Annulment, hmm? I must admit I am eager to convince him that the Circle is safe again, and that his Right is no longer needed."

"Irving, there are some urgent things I need to discuss with you." Wynne suddenly broke in, her face etched with worry.

"Oh? Well, the stairs down the Tower will provide more than enough time for you to tell me about these _urgent _matters."

Leliana looked over to Alistair to see if he heard, and he clearly had by the way he looked over at Wynne. She resolved herself to stay as close to those two as possible, to ensure she heard everything Wynne told the First Enchanter.

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

_I am getting really tired of waking up with a splitting headache. _ Artalise thought as her eyes fluttered open. Thankfully the curtains in the room were thick and blocked out most of the sunlight that begged to enter the room.

She looked up at the stonework on the ceiling, feeling as though it was incredibly familiar. _This doesn't look like Redcliffe…_she thought as she glanced around bookshelves which lined the walls. The curtains were unlike the ones at Redcliffe as well. It wasn't until she noted the slight curvature of the walls that she realized where she was – The Circle.

She awoke with a start, swiftly getting up and swinging her legs over to the side of her bed. Looking down, she saw she was in nothing but a simple shift – but thankfully her robes were lying, folded neatly, on the chair beside her bed. She grabbed them, but noting the different feel in fabric she unfolded them and was pleased to see that someone had apparently noticed the incredibly worn, and bloodstained robes and had given her a new set. She eagerly pulled the new set on.

_"Knowing my secrets….my darkest desires….I have atoned for this sin!"_

She shook her head fiercely, as if she wanted to shake that memory from her head. She bit her lip as she smoothed the new robes, forcing her mind to admire instead the feel of new cloth instead of thinking of the words that Cullen had spoken…but she failed.

He thought of his adoration for her as a sin? He thought of all mages as a disease that deserved to be purged from Thedas? It was so unlike the Cullen she had known – the one who stuttered when he spoke to her, the one who had given her flowers. Had the blood magic broken his mind, or merely his barriers? Was this truly how he felt, and he had just suppressed it for a long time? Would all templars feel that way? Perhaps not at first…but would not years of Chantry brainwashing make them eventually repent viewing a mage anything less than an equal?

Would not Alistair at some point feel the same way? She sighed and looked at her hands, the scars still evident on them. She was surprised that he hadn't noticed the scars – Maker knows she had been careless while on the boat ride over to the Circle. How she had longed for gloves to cover up her hands…but she had yet to come across some gloves that wouldn't affect her spell-casting abilities. Normal leather and cloth would not do at all. But they would only hide the scars for a time. Eventually someone would notice. Eventually she would be forced to say how she got the scars. And what then?

His looks at her hadn't gone unnoticed. Something in him had changed since Connor was saved – it was as if he looked at her in a new light. She hadn't minded of course, though she was a bit surprised, especially after their first encounter at Ostagar. She had even enjoyed the attention – it had been so long since she had felt like a woman instead of the Grey Warden, or a mage. The Bann of course had made her feel so, but she had brushed his words off as the empty words of a nobleman. Or as the words of someone intrigued with something exotic. With the Dalish keeping to themselves, an elf confident of herself surely was an oddity.

She brushed a stray strand of hair out of her eyes, sighing as she noticed her braids had been undone. How she hated to have her hair constantly getting in her face. Some days she was so tempted to just cut it all off. Or perhaps she could just pull it into a simple ponytail like Anders does...

No. Enough with thinking of the past. She would go find the First Enchanter and focus on the present.

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

He wasn't hard to find as he had already settled back into his office. The servants and templars had apparently been very busy – the hallways no longer stunk of death, and the blood splatters on the wall had seemed to be scrubbed away. Now she was curious as to how long she had been knocked out. Again.

She knocked soundly on the door leading to his office. At his muffled, "Come in" she did so, noticing that little had been done to clean up the books and papers strewn everywhere. In fact, it seemed worse than when they had been in there just a little while ago.

"Ah, I am glad to see you have finally awoken, Artalise" Irving stated from behind his desk, "Please, have a seat. Have you eaten yet?"

"No, but I am fine, First Enchanter." Artalise answered as she made her way over to the chair in front of the desk. She honestly hadn't thought a moment about hunger, and now that she did, she suddenly felt a pang of it. Thankfully this shouldn't take too long, "If I may, how long have I been here?"

Irving smiled, "Only about a day. Your friends and Enchanter Wynne have already returned to Redcliffe to look after the Arl."

She nodded, "I am glad to hear it. How goes the Tower restoration?"

The older man let out a sigh, "The…what Uldred did caused more harm than I had realized. So many mages are gone now…"He rubbed his wrinkled head, "I apologize, I should not lay this burden on you. I am ever so grateful you returned to the Circle when you did."

"This is my home too – I…am sorry to hear that so many have…are gone." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, "Is Enchanter Iona….?"

Irving shook his head sadly, and placed his arms on his desk, "I am sorry, Artalise. She was one of the first to be killed by Uldred's action…"

Artalise bit her lip to hold back her tears and nodded her head in understanding.

"Enchanter Leorah has been inquiring after you…Perhaps you should go see her after you leave here?"

She nodded when suddenly she remembered something, "Did Alistair mention to you anything about the Grey Warden Treaties?"

"They were….in a bit of a hurry to return. Perhaps it slipped his mind."

Artalise smiled a little bit. _Perhaps_, "It is in my pack if you need to actually see it…but we a treaty that has the Circle joining the Wardens to fight off the Blight…"

Irving smiled in understanding, "Ah, yes. I have heard of these treaties. It is true then? About this being a Blight?"

Artalise shifted uneasily, "While we have not seen the Archdemon in the flesh, it haunts our dreams at night. That only occurs during a Blight, or so we were told."

The First Enchanter leaned back in his chair, pressing his hands together and bringing them to his mouth in thought, "Well…" he drew out, taking the time to figure out what was being said, "Have you a need for our force immediately?"

Artalise snorted and shook her head. Had she even contemplated what to do with these allies once she had gained them? "Not yet. There is no point for us to go after the Archdemon until we know where he is…and hopefully by that time we will have the dwarves and elves beside us as well."

"And what about an army of men?"

"First Enchanter?" Artalise asked with confusion, not understanding what he was getting at.

"Teryn Loghain now rules as Regent. He has declared the Grey Wardens as murderers of the King. Will you seek his aid?"

Artalise nodded, her eyes narrowing as she remembered the words the Loghain supporter had told her at Lothering, "Do you believe what he says to be true?"

Irving smiled, "As you know, we in the Circle strive to stay away from the messiness that is politics. All I am aware of is that there are ancient treaties forcing us, the Circle, to aid the Grey Wardens in times of Blight."

"And we will have the aid of the dwarves and elves."

"So you hope." He pointed out.

"So I hope." Artalise conceded. "Beyond that, Alistair is convinced that Arl Eamon will be able to provide us with his army."

Irving tapped his fingers together as he watched Artalise, waiting to see if she would continue and give him the answer he was looking for. When she merely stared back at him, he smiled slightly, "And how will you deal with the Teryn?"

Artalise smiled crookedly, "I thought the Circle had no dealings in political matters. How the Grey Warden deals with the true Betrayer of Ferelden will be _purely_ a political matter."

Irving chuckled at her dodging of his question, and nodded his head, "True enough, Artalise, and well played. I was merely curious if you had a plan."

"The Teryn will be dealt with, " Artalise stated resolutely.

Irving nodded, "So we shall see. But," He said as she started to get up, "I do have one more thing to discuss with you before you go."

Artalise gently sat back down and looked at the First Enchanter with an inquisitive look. What more was there to be said?

"Enchanter Wynne….made mention of taking something out of this room?" He asked with a slightly arched bushy grey eyebrow. He didn't seem angry at all, much to her relief. She couldn't help but be annoyed with Wynne though. Apparently one is never too old to be a tattle-tale.

She sighed, not even bothering to try to hide her exasperation at the older woman and causing Irving to chuckle a little bit, "I have…a friend who requested a book she thought was here."

"An old black grimoire which I doubt you were able to understand?" He asked, still smiling.

Artalise nodded meekly.

"And who is this 'friend' of yours who knew such a book existed?"

She shifted her position in the seat again nervously. How could she tell him about Morrigan? But…he had never lied to her before… "I will tell you….only if you give me your word not to tell a soul about it."

Irving smirked a little before nodding his head in agreement.

"She…she saved Alistair and my own lives at Ostagar. More than once…She was the daughter of a crazy old woman who actually called herself _Flemeth._" Artalise scoffed.

Irving, however, looked intrigued at this little bit of information, leaning forward a little bit in his chair, "Oh? A daughter of Flemeth? Well, that explains it. And it would only be...fitting for her to have that book. I am sure she will find it _most _interesting."

Artalise blinked a few times, now wishing she was actually able to read what the book said, before she smiled, relieved that she wasn't going to get in trouble and pleased that she had even avoided disappointing First Enchanter Irving. She no longer felt a desire to try to get into the First Enchanters good wishes, to be his star pupil, like she did when she was in the Tower…but it was hard to set aside 12 years of devotion to the man, the man she had nearly come to see as her father.

"Now, I believe I have kept you long enough? Surely you have better things to do than sit around and talk with me?"

Artalise got up from the chair and nodded her head at the man behind the desk in departure. In truth she was now _famished_. "I am a bit hungry now…."

He chortled, "As is to be expected after a day of not eating! The dining hall is open. It's a bit early for supper, but I am sure there will be something out there for you to eat."

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

There wasn't much set out – the cooks were apparently too busy preparing supper, or else she came too late for the more delicious foods. She was able to grab a small loaf of bread and some cheese, as well as a mug of weak beer.

She grinned as she took a sip of the fermented liquid. For all its being surrounded by a lake, water inside the Tower, at least drinkable water, was a precious item. After centuries of ruined potions being tossed out windows, at least the story went, the water surrounding the Tower was nearly undrinkable. It was one of the first things she had been told not to do after she entered the Tower – to never drink the water. Even when she and her fellow apprentices would concoct ridiculous potions to dare each other to drink, they had _never_ put Lake Calenhad water in it. Everything that they had put into their potions that had known how it would react and what its effects were – apprentices with malicious intents were never invited to play such games, but the introduction of Lake Calenhad water was thought to bring in a big unknown. No apprentice, at least that she knew about, had dared to do it.

And so all the liquids consumed in the Tower had to be brought over by boat. And if one had to go through the trouble of bringing a heavy barrel over on a boat, it had better be worth it. Thus all residents of the Tower, from the youngest apprentice to the oldest Templar would drink alcohol. In the Tower's defense, the alcohol was usually very weak.

There were a few templars and elf servants in the hall, obviously exhausted from their efforts of returning to Tower to some sense of normalcy. No mages though- which she noted with sadness shouldn't be too surprising. On her way up the Tower just a day or two ago she had met so many abominations, so many of her old friends and teachers that she could no longer had recognized…and one of them that she might have killed was her old Enchanter.

She numbly stuffed more bread and cheese into her mouth, the beer making it all go down easier, when she suddenly noticed a flourished movement coming in through the door. It was an elf, and when she saw Artalise she quickly ran to her. Artalise put down her cup of beer when she realized who it was – Enchanter Leorah. She quickly got to her feet and embraced the older elf woman in a warm hug.

"It is…so good to see you again, Artalise!" she said, still embracing the younger elf.

"And the same with you! If I may…how did you…." Artalise stopped in midsentence, unsure of how to finish.

Leorah pulled away a little bit so she could look at Artalise fully in the face and dropped her arms to her side, an ironic smile on her face, "Survive? I was in the Harrowing Chamber when you….rescued us. I am not surprised you didn't see me…not with what Cullen did," She finished darkly, understandably disgusted with the templar's behavior.

That was what Artalise had forgotten to ask the First Enchanter about! "What happened to Ser Cullen?"

Leorah sighed and shook her head, "Your friend rendered him pretty much incapable to do anything but walk down the stairs. Which is a good thing too, as we mages were just looking for a chance to strike him down. After what he did and wanted to do to us…to you…." She finished with a practical growl before she realized how she sounded and immediately tried to erase the obvious hatred from her voice, "Knight-Commander Greagoir has him in custody and is awaiting for the command from the Knight Commander in Denerim as to what should be done to him. Rumor is that Aeonar is in his future."

Artalise's brows furrowed and she looked at Leorah questioningly, "Aeonar? Isn't that where they send apostates…and all others opposed to the Chantry's laws" she added as she remembered what happened to Lily. After Leorah nodded, Artalise continued albeit a bit more impishly, "Why would they send a templar who actually seemed to be the pinnacle of their beliefs there? Is that not what the Chantry secretly desires? A world without mages?"

Leorah's dark smile grew as Artalise continued, culminating in a spiteful laugh, "True enough! They will probably make him Supreme Knight-Commander!" Leorah wiped a tear from her eye, "but enough of joviality. There is actually something I wanted to give you, if you could follow me?"

At Artalise's nod Leorah led Artalise out of the dining hall – leaving her meal on the table for a servant elf to clean up.

Once they passed the door to the hallways, Enchanter Leorah spoke up again, "Another rumor I've heard is that you posses….treaties that has the Circle give what you are now…a…"

"Grey Warden."

"A Grey Warden, give you our aid in times of Blight? And you have the Right to call upon the dwarves…and the Dalish as well?" By the way her eyes lit up when she asked about the Dalish, Artalise knew this is what interested her the most. To be honest, Artalise was also excited about the possibility of meeting a member of her race that knew so much more of their ancient lore. And, rumor had, also practiced some of it.

When Artalise nodded in assent, Leorah broke into a huge grin, probably feeling for the first time in a long time actually excited and happy. "Oh! If only…" as quickly as the light had come, it quickly disappeared as she remembered all those who had fallen, "Iona and the others could be here and listen to this…" she sighed before looking around, and seeing that the hallway was empty practically whispered "It had always been our deepest desire to make contact with the Dalish. Now, perhaps, we will have our chance?"

Leorah directed her into a small room in the enchanter quarters. It was different, but Artalise knew why – Leorah's old room had been awashed in blood and bones. Artalise would have moved her room too. Inside the room there sat two other elven enchanters whom she recognized from the meetings they had once held – Enchanter Terrece and Enchanter Jerina. Artalise assumed this meant that this was what the elven number was down to- a lonely three enchanters.

Leorah quickly shut the door behind them and looked eagerly at the other two enchanters in the room, "It is true! She will be making contact with the Dalish."

Terrece and Jerina instantly broke into a smile at the news as Leorah guided Artalise to a chair.

"There is so much we wish to tell you- we kept so much from apprentices, and you were taken from us so quickly after you became a full-fledged mage." Leorah explained as she put a book into Artalise hands. When she opened it up the script looked vaguely familiar. She peered up at Leorah questioningly, who looked down at the mage with a sigh.

"I thought so. You never learned elvish script, did you?"

Artalise blushed a little. While she had loved learning about elven history, she had spent more of her time practicing spells than trying to be a scholar. She had known some of her elven friends to be quite knowledgeable of it though. There was even a human who was the resident bookworm that some of the elven mages went to when they had a question about an obscure elvish word. _What was his name...it was something ridiculously long and utterly human in origin...well, no matter now_. She had picked up a few words of elvish in passing…but she had never learned the script. To hide her embarrasement she looked back down at the foreign writing when suddenly it became clear to her where she had seen it before….

On the vellum that Morrigan had said she had copied down from Artalise's blood writing.

_That was elvish?_


	21. Chapter 17:  Priorities

_A_._N. Thanks for the gracious reviews from TanithAeyrs and jackkel dragon, who both, BTW write stories of their own that I would encourage you to read. _

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

"Artalise? Are you OK?"

No response.

"Artalise?" An urgent hand on the shoulder.

The sudden presence of another's hand on her shoulder finally broke Artalise from her pondering of the revelation she had just received. She shook her head and blinked rapidly as she focused on the concerned face of Leorah. In an attempt to alleviate the other woman's worry, she gave her a small smile.

"Pardon?" she asked sweetly.

Leorah's brows furrowed as Terrance and Jerina exchange a glance. The older mage then looked pointedly down at the still open book, "Are you able to read elvish?"

Artalise gulped before shaking her head, "No. I have never learned it."

Leroah nodded her head tentatively, still watching Artalise closely, "So we thought. Will you…be searching out the Dalish soon?"

The young mage shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she tried to think of a way to make it seem like she had a plan, "Our…goal right now is to try to find the Urn of Sacred Ashes."

"_The Urn of Sacred Ashes?_ You chase after a myth?" Terrance broke in with a scoff as he crossed his arms. Judging by the way the other two looked at her, she could see they felt the same way. Perhaps she even would've agreed had she been in their shoes.

She nodded and asked weakly, "I don't suppose you have any information about it that you would like to share?"

The only answer she got was Leorah's gaze intensifying as Terrance voiced the concerns of the other elves in the room, "And _why _does a Grey Warden search out the Urn of Sacred Ashes? Should not the Blight be your number one priority?"

The question caught Artalise completely off-guard, not only because she had never thought of that before, but because it also had a ring of truth to it. Why _was_ she chasing after an Urn that had been lost for centuries? Men had given up most and in many cases their entire lives in pursuit of finding this Urn. Did she really think that the urgent praying and small sum that the Arlessa was able to pay one Chantry scholar to research this myth was going to actually turn up anything that years of scholarly research could not? Could the Grey Wardens afford to spend years searching for this Urn all for the sake of one man, no matter how dear he was to those around him? Could they afford to lose all that time when there was a Blight to deal with?

For the second time, Artalise had to break out of her reverie of thoughts. She brought a tired hand to her temple and lightly rubbed it, "It…is."

Terrance smirked, and looked like he wanted to continue on, but Jerina placed a hand on his arm, and gave him a look that made him stop his interrogation of the younger elf. For now.

Leorah suddenly clapped her hands together as she remembered something, causing three pairs of eyes to look at her in surprise. Unconcerned, Leorah turned to dig around in a chest at the foot of her bed. Near the bottom of the chest, she apparently found what she was looking for, grabbed it, and brought it out of the chest. Artalise looked at maroon clothing, fur cape, and the gold rings with some interest. Her eyes widened even more when Leorah placed the clothing on the desk in front of her, "What….?"

"Iona came across this clothing from….somewhere." Leorah laughed quietly to herself, "She never told me where she got it from…she was always so secretive! But, she told me, she was going to wear these when, or rather if, she could ever wear down Greagoir enough to allow her to make contact with the Dalish." She shook her head, "She knew it was an impossible quest, but she persisted anyways…"her breath caught in her throat as she thought of her now dead friend. She bit her lip, making her mind focus on the physical pain rather than her grief, "But now her apprentice, her favorite student will get a chance to do so, hmm?"

Artalise ran her hand along the rich feeling cloth, particularly drawn to the golden chains as she felt the power of lyrium that had been folded into the metal, and the faint etchings of runes on the large gold rings, "Is it Dalish?"

Leroah grinned and shook her head, "Alas, no. Iona called them her 'Archon's robes', and what little I know of the Tevinter mages, this definitely follows their style. Iona showed me it once – it is _very_ exotic looking. Much more form flattering than our Circle robes." The woman then arched an impish eyebrow at Artalise, "Your handsome templar-companion will appreciate them, I'm sure."

Artalise blanched as Jerina and Leorah tittered, "Oh no, he and I…"

Leorah tsked while grinning, "You've been known to have a partiality for templars…"

"And look how _that _turned out." Artalise snapped, perhaps a bit more harshly than she intended.

Leorah's face went white as she realized what she had said, "Oh…I am…so sorry Artalise. I didn't mean…It was just by the way he looked at you…"

Artalise waved her off, "It is no matter." She honestly didn't want to think about..._him_...anymore.

Leorah then cleared her throat and exchanged a glance with the elves behind her. They both nodded their head in answer to her unvoiced question, "To return to the matter at hand, Artalise, we have made you a book that we hope will help you learn our language. It should help you in case you come across anything while with the Dalish."Leorah said, as she stepped over to her bookshelf and took out a nondescript book. She placed it on top of the robes, and Artalise immediately opened it up, her curiosity piqued. The first few pages were an explanation of elvish characters, then there was a part that seemed dedicated to rudimentary grammar, and lastly long lists of words with both King's tongue and elvish written side by side. Artalise looked up at Leorah with furrowed brows, "When did you make this?"

"We finished it just a couple of hours ago. It is not nearly as extensive as we would have wanted, but it should be of some help to you, yes?" Leorah asked, clearly hoping that the hours of work the elves had put into the book would not be wasted.

Artalise nodded her head while she skimmed the long list of words, trying to see if she could remember any of them from the vellum. Not surprisingly, she was not able to, "You have my utmost thanks, " She started, before looking up at Leorah and the other two elves with some curiosity, "But why are you doing all this?"

Leorah smiled a little, "You actually have a chance to make contact with the Dalish! For as long as I can remember, we have longed to make contact with them. And now we finally have a chance…."

Artalise's brows furrowed deeper, "Is there...something you wanted me to ask of them?"

Leorah shook her head, "Of course there is nothing specific we need…but, if you could just…" she shifted her weight as she tried to think of what she wanted to say, "Just let them know that we in the Circle are doing our best to keep the traditions alive. That we…" and then she looked back at the interested faces of Terrance and Jerina, as if to get the strength to say what they all believed, "That we eagerly await the day when we elves can practice the magic our ancestors did."

Artalise smiled, thinking back to all those days she had spent in the Circle, listening to the stories told by the older mages about the days of Arlathan. She nodded her head in assent, "I will do so." She paused a moment, "But if there is nothing else, I do not think I should keep my party waiting…I have dallied here long enough"

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~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

Artalise shifted uncomfortably in her rough peasant dress, not for the first time cursing her race's plight.

As soon as Artalise stepped once more into Redcliffe castle, she was accosted by the Arlessa, who pleaded and practically begged her to hurry and go to Denerim in order to see if the Arlessa's scholar, a Brother Gentivi, had found anything on the Urn. Bann Teagan was thankfully close on the Arlessa's heels and was able to calm the crazed woman down, if only slightly. Wynne had been able to prevent the Arl from succumbing further to his illness, but the Arlessa had been most disappointed when the elder mage's magic had not cured the Arl outright.

The woman's shrieking had alerted her other companions to her arrival. The first to greet her, of course, had been Oak, whose happy barking could be heard long before he actually barreled into the hallway, nearly knocking the Arlessa over in his eagerness to be near his Warden again. As more party members filtered into the tiny room, a plan was soon hatched as to how they could travel to Denerim without being found out as Grey Wardens.

So now, Morrigan was now a merchant, and Artalise acting as her servant. Leliana, Alistair, and Sten would be help she had hired to keep her cargo safe. Besides some salted fresh-water fish that the Arlessa and Bann had been meaning to send to Denerim for a week now, the Bann had suggested that they make the cargo a bit more precious, to warrant Morrigan's ability to hire three mercenaries. So, the Arlessa donated some of her own jewelry and clothing, as well as some exceptionally well-made armor to the "merchant." Thankfully, though Wynne had expressed some interest in going with the Grey Wardens, the Arlessa instantly shot the old woman down, insisting that she stay at Redcliffe to watch over the Arl. For the briefest of moments, Artalise had actually liked the Arlessa. Then the woman had opened her mouth to say something else, and Artalise was back to hating her. Thank the Maker that the years in Ferelden had tempered Leliana's accent. How stubbornly the Arlessa must cling to Orlais to have as thick of an accent as she still did.

Somehow, word had gotten out to the village population that there was going to be a well-defended merchant leaving for Denerim. The assaults of the undead on the village had been brutal, wiping out a good portion of the population and leaving in particular a large amount of widows and orphans who now wished to return to family members in Denerim. Redcliffe could give them nothing except constant reminders of all they had lost. So _then _ the Arlessa and Bann had taken pity on the people and had given them permission to leave with the Grey Wardens. Thankfully, they had piled on more rations and even supplied them with more tents. Initially they had worried about the possibility of someone remembering who they were, but fortunately their time in the village proper had been short enough that no one seemed to remember them. Yet.

_Not even two hours out and already the cart is full of children_. Artalise said with a sigh as she looked at all the little legs dangling off the end of the wagon. Thankfully the ox moved along just as fast as the beast had before the mothers had started to ask Morrigan if their children could ride in the cart. The first few women who had done so had scampered away in fear as Morrigan had glared at them, seemingly offended that they would even _think_ about approaching her. Eventually they wore her down so all she would do is wave her hand in a manner that the women took as assent.

The worst part for Artalise had been her realization that she was the only elf in this caravan, which she had made during the few seconds she had simply stared at a woman who had _told-_not _asked _her to help- her load a small bag into the back of the cart. They were still at Redcliffe at the time and were loading up the wagon. Her party members were busy elsewhere otherwise she was sure they would have intervened before it rose to the level it did. When Artalise didn't respond, the woman took it as a sign of disobedience, and took Artalise's "punishment" into her own hands.

The woman had actually slapped her! It had taken all her willpower to not destroy the woman where she stood. Alistair had apparently been watching what had occurred, as he seemed to appear out of nowhere, grabbing the bag and tossing it into the cart, before gently guiding the woman away as she set loose a berating of pure venom on Artalise.

"Do you still wish to save them?" Morrigan asked from behind Artalise, forcing Artalise to make her first movement since her hand had flown to her cheek after the woman had slapped her;

She turned to look at the human mage, "Hmm?"

Morrigan rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms, "'Twas a plainly stated question, unless the woman slapped you harder than I thought."

Artalise's hand dropped to her side and she sighed, "That _is _my duty as a Grey Warden." She intoned with very little emotion, as if she was reciting it from memory.

"Does not you duty require you to stop the Blight? It doesn't state anything about saving the poor ignorant fools that make up a large portion of the Ferelden population."

She wished she had been knocked out for a little bit longer, "You wish for them to die, Morrigan?"

"I see no reason to save them."

"Well, I suppose Ferelden should be thankful then that you were not made into a Grey Warden." Artalise stated wryly.

The woman smirked in response. "You see, firsthand, the way they view elves…."

_And still she prods!_ "What do you want me to say Morrigan, that yes I want them all to die? That elves should stop being treated worse than dirt and we should be able to embrace our culture fully again? That humans should be punished for what they have put my people through?" Artalise's voice grew in volume with every passing word, causing some of the refugees to turn and watch. As she had watched the amusement in Morrigan's eyes grow as well, she realized too late- that she had let the woman goad her on and make a fool of herself. She lowered her voice as she glared at the woman, "Are you happy now? Did you get the response you wanted?"

"Indeed. 'Twould be wise for you to learn to act like others of your kind do if our act is to hold. " Morrigan stated simply before she turned and walked over to Leliana to discuss something with her.

Artalise simply stared after the woman, baffled at the woman's complete lack of caring. She had thought that her relationship with the older mage had grown warmer. Apparently not.

"She has a point, you know."

Artalise had spun around to see Alistair looking at her, concern flickering in his eyes. She heaved a sigh again as she combed a hand through her hair absentmindedly, "I've been told about the…status of my kind in Thedas. How _your kind_ treats mine." She stated pointedly realizing too late that her words were too harsh as Alistair visibly winced at them. As an apology, she gave him a small smile and ensured her voice was clear of malice before continuing, "Knowing about it and experiencing it are two drastically different things, however."

Alistair looked like he was going to say something else, but Artalise waved him off, "Please. Alistair. Not now."

With that she had walked back over to the cart and started loading various crates and bags into it, trying her best to keep busy physically to keep her mind focused off the indignation she had just experienced.

And now, here she was. She swung the ox's lead rope slightly in her hand. The beast stunk to the Black City, and she had nearly gagged when Morrigan indicated to her to take the beast's rope, but over the hours she had gotten use to its smell. The animal's stench had had an upside of keeping the migrants away from her. Not only was she obviously with something, but the animal smelled too strongly for anyone to come close enough to bother her.

She heard a throat be cleared right behind her. Well, no one had bothered her, _until now_.

"I…I just want to thank you for taking us to Denerim!" a young woman blurted out from behind her.

Artalise nearly stopped in her tracks -not that it would have mattered to the ox- at the woman's words. The human woman from earlier had given her a strong distaste for dealing with anyone besides her companions. Artalise had been ready to write off the whole group as ignorant racists was determined to spend as little time around them as possible. Though this woman actually expressed thanks, Artalise couldn't help but feel her bitterness against the migrants flaring up, "Is there a reason why you tell _me_ this?" Morrigan's advice came back to her as soon as the words had left her mouth. _Hmm…That doesn't sound too subservient. I'm going to need to work on that a little bit more. _

"I…uh, well…your leader is just so unapproachable! And I just felt the need to thank someone…"

"So you thank an elf? What makes you think I had anything to do with this? I just do what _she_ tells me to do." _Still not subservient enough. How do other elves pull it off?_

"I…I…" the young woman sounded liked she was actually going toburst into tears.

Artalise rolled her eyes, but decided that while she could not pull of being servile, at least not yet, she could at least be nice to the young woman. She was apparently the sort to cry on her own - and not try to make others do so, "I will relay your thanks to merchant Moreen. It's true…she can be rather cold at times." Artalise said with a forced smile, using the fake names they had come up with for each other.

The woman heaved a sigh of relief, "Oh good! I thought it was just me…."

"No. Definitely not just you." Artalise laughed softly, shaking her head as she once more thought of Morrigan's earlier words .

"I'm Kaitlyn, by the way."

"A pleasure."

A few moments of silence passed before Kaitlyn spoke up nervously, "Well…what's your name?"

Artalise scoffed, "Does my name even matter? You can just call me 'You!' or 'Elf'" Artalise almost regretted the bitterness returning to her voice. Kaitlyn did seem like a genuinely nice person, if perhaps a bit naïve.

"Oh…I-I'm sorry." The young woman stammered.

Artalise actually turned and looked at the now sullen Kaitlyn. The human was pretty enough, though her eyes were incredibly sad. Even more so when they stared dejectedly at the ground.

"Arista"

"P-pardon?"

"My name. It's Arista."

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~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

_A.N. Gotta love transition chapters! I thought it was somewhat interesting with the interplay between the characters...mostly I just wanted to post this to let you, my loyal fans (wink) know I am still alive! Inshallah, I will be posting a more...interesting chapter sometime over the weekend when I can take some breaks from my mega-loads of homework._

_A.N. As always reviews, and especially criticisms, are welcomed. Let me know what you liked or didn't like, as while I am having a blast doing this, I would also love to improve my writing...its for your benefit as well as mine. :)_


	22. Chapter 18:  Darkspawn and Decisions

_A.N. A thousand thanks to Arsinoe de Blassenville! I am honored to have such a fantastic writer as herself reviewing my own dribble of a story. :)_

_A.N. The ending scene of this short chapter made me smile while writing it. I hope it does the same for you..._

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

"Darkspawn!"

Artalise blanched.

The journey had been quiet so far, which had relieved everyone. There had been some rumors of several groups of darkspawn harassing and sometimes slaughtering travelers. The further north they traveled, and the further they got from the bulk of the horde near Ostagar, the less likely they thought they would be attacked. Apparently the rumors had been true – there were small groups of darkspawn far north of the last scouted location of the horde. And one of those groups had attacked them.

"D-d-darkspawn?" Kaitlyn whimpered from beside her, reaching out to grab her younger brother close to her.

Artalise quickly leapt to her feet, sending the bowl of soup she had been enjoying with Kaitlyn and her younger brother Bevin tumbling to the ground. Oak, always at her side, started to growl and bark in the direction of the woods.

"Kaitlyn, Bevin!" Artalise shouted, getting their attention as she tried to discern where the darkspawn were emerging from. When she heard the shouts of Alistair and Sten coming somewhere from the right of her, she pointed over towards her left, "Go and hide in the woods. Take anyone you can with you, and keep together. Oak, " she stated as she looked down at the alert hound, "Guard these two and any others. Don't whine." She moved her arms rapidly in the direction of the woods, "Now go!"

Kaitlyn nodded her head briskly as she stood up and clenched her brother's hand in her own. She then darted into the woods, Oak trailing closely on her heels.

For a split second Artalise started to call magic to her, readying a fireball to land where she saw some genlocks emerging from the woods near Alistair and Sten, but then she suddenly blanched again and stopped. She would be unable to use magic – she couldn't if she wanted her disguise to hold. What was she suppose to do then?

Her eyes fell on Morrigan, and she could see the same thoughts were going through her head as wisps of frosty air drifted from her hands before disappearing entirely. The women and children darting hither and thither soon drew her attention from Morrigan. She couldn't decide who had a death wish more – those that ran around irrationally, or those who huddled to the ground, praying to the Maker to save them.

"Lel-Lelia!" Artalise called out to the Orlesian, who was standing in the middle of the camp, far enough away to not be in immediate danger but near enough to be able to aim her arrows well.

Leliana nodded her head slightly, indicating that she had heard Artalise before she let loose the arrow she had notched and it meeting its target in the side of a Hurlock, distracting it enough from the fight at hand that Sten was able to bring his sword up and slice clean through the Hurlock's abdomen. From what Artalise could see there were possibly four more darkspawn to be defeated. At least out of those that had made their presence known...

Leliana lowered her bow and ran over to where Artalise stood, and looked at her questioningly.

"We need to gather the women and children into one area – before they run off and get themselves killed. I want you to protect them." Artalise said, pointing a finger in an area on the opposite end of the camp from where the fighting was taking place.

Leliana nodded once, before heading over in the direction Artalise had pointed, bellowing in her minstrel's voice for the women and children to follow her, all while notching another arrow into her bow and looking alertly into the shadows of the woods.

After forcibly grabbing a hold of a few woman and nearly walking them over to the slowly growing group of shivering woman and children, she looked with a startled look over in the direction where she had sent Kaitlyn and Bevin as she thought she could hear the faintest sound of Oak barking in between growls. The sounds he made when in battle.

Artalise gulped and headed off in a jog ,then into a run as she let her ears guide her to where Oak and the two humans hopefully were. Through the trees she could eventually make out the form of Kaitlyn hovering over her wide-eyed brother, her face buried in his unkempt hair. Two small, squat beasts hissed at them, attempting to swing at them with their crude swords, but being stopped by an attack by Oak. Artalise nearly tripped over the form of a third dead genlock and she let out a muffled curse.

Her voice, faint though it was, drew the attention of the two remaining darkspawn. One turned around and let out a terrifying sound somewhere between a hiss and a growl, while its comrade stepped sideways to protect its back. Once more, she was put off by the fact that they actually seemed to possess a rudimentary form of intelligence. Enough, at least, to know to cover each other's backs.

_No matter._ Artalise thought as she readied a fire spell, no longer caring about her disguise. Any other of the migrants, perhaps Artalise would not have cared as much and have tried to conceal what she was. But not with these two. She had become close to these two, to Kaitlyn and Bevin, often spending more time with them then with the rest of her party. If nothing else, it prevented Alistair from attempting to do what she assumed was flirting with her, poorly executed though it was as well as being incredibly awkward for both him and her. Looking at him, she couldn't help but see Cullen…would not his interest in her progress the same as it did with Cullen? Intrigue and sweetness at first, but eventually he would… _remember_ what she was and see her through the lens of years of Chantry and Templar brainwashing instead of through the lens of a man in love. He would feel guilt…perhaps worse...No, it was better to not even start down that road, lonely though her nights might be.

As the genlock advanced towards her, raising up its chipped sword, Artalise had her flames erupt from her outspread fingers. The fire's reach was long enough that the genlock still facing Oak and the humans let out a yowl of pain as the flames licked his back, joining the scream of pain from the his partner being burnt alive. The distraction gave Oak the chance he needed to launch himself straight at the genlock's throat. It's yowl soon became nothing but a gurgle, and then nothing.

Artalise's nose wrinkled up as the stench of burnt darkspawn flesh reached her. She hated that smell so much. Once Oak detached himself from the still-twitching genlock, Artalise walked right up alongside it, and with a sneer she stretched her hands down towards it, watching its body tense up one final time before its flesh was burned away like the other genlock.

Once the flames dissipated, Artalise knelt down by Oak, running her hands across his heavily sliced and clawed skin. Oak whined slightly, to which Artalise patted him on the head before placing both her hands on his back and forcing the power to flow through her and into the hound, staunching the bleeding from his many wounds. After a few moments she pulled her hands back and stood up to survey Oak's body better. He had added many more scars to his body today, but thankfully it looked like all of them would heal easily enough. _He does need some new kaddis, however…_she mused to herself. She was forced out of her musing by the sound of Kaitlyn's wavering voice.

"Y-y-you're a…a… » Kaitlyn stuttered. The poor girl looked more frightened now then when she had been staring at the darkspawn who had wanted to kill her.

"That was _awesome_!" Bevin suddenly said, catching both Artalise and his older sister by surprise. He squirmed his way out of Kaitlyn's grasp and darted over to where Artalise stood, "Can you do it again?"

"Bevin!" Kaitlyn gasped, appalled at her brother's reaction.

"Kaitlyn, _come on! _How cool was that – she just went like this" He held his hands out in front of him and furrowed his brows together in fake concentration, "And then flames came out of her hands!" He made a whooshing sound in his throat, clearly trying to imitate the sound of flames, and his fingers wiggling as he tried to duplicate the flickering of her fire. He then dropped his hands and looked back up at Artalise, clearly in awe, "That was the coolest thing I've ever seen in my _life_!" He stated as brought both his fists up to chest, clearly excited, before clasping both his hands together, "Please, please _please_ do it again? Please Arista?" He begged, his eyes resembling the look Oak took when he was begging for scraps. It always made her give in.

"No, no, no!" Kaitlyn stated as she walked up to Bevin and grabbed him again, covering his eyes as if to prevent him from knowing that Artalise stood there. "Who are you?"

The grin on Artalise's face that she had had all while Bevin had been talking quickly disappeared, "I…I have told you my name."

"You have told me _a_ name! You are _not_ any mere elf….you're an…an _apostate_!"

Artalise groaned inwardly at the thought of having to deal with yet another person who had been brainwashed with all the horrific stories the Chantry had put out about apostates, the only mages regular people of Ferelden were likely to come across. In most of their eyes, she was sure the words "apostate" and "maleficar" were used interchangeably.

"Technically, yes. I am not longer a ward of the Chantry. But…no templar will search me out."

Kaitlyn's brows lowered in confusion. Bevin, though his face was shielded from her view, seemed merely curious.

Artalise sighed. She might as well tell them the truth… "I am a Grey Warden."

"Waaaait…don't Grey Wardens have griffons? Why do you have a mabari instead of a griffon. A griffon would be _way_ cooler!" Bevin asked, a hand grasping at his sister's hand as he tried to pull it away so he could see. He failed.

"We _had_ griffons a long time ago. The last one died out many years ago, so the stories go. And Oak chose me, that is why I have him." She stated as she ruffled some of the fur on top of Oak's head. His tongue lolled contentedly as he looked up at her with unparallel devotion.

Suddenly Kaitlyn's eyes went wide as she evidently remembered something, "Hold on. I remember hearing a rumor in the village that it was Grey Wardens who stopped the undead from coming to the village again…" she peered at Artalise with both suspicion and awe, "Was that you, then?"

Artalise nodded, and Bevin finally got his eyesight back as Kaitlyn brought the hand that had been covering his eyes to her mouth in a gasp of surprise. Bevin looked up at his sister in triumph.

"See? She's on _our_ side!"

Kaitlyn nodded numbly, before she looked back at Artalise, "Is Arista really your name?"

Artalise shook her head, "No. But for the sake of our disguise, I will ask that you still refer to me as Arista. It is close enough to my actual name."

"A-r-i-s-t-a" Bevin stated, spelling the name out, scrunching his face up as he tried to think of other names similar to that one, "Elissa?"

She shook her head.

"Ari…anna?"

Again, another head shake.

"Clar..ista?"

Kaitlyn lightly jabbed Bevin in his side with her elbow, making him cry out more from surprise than pain, "Stop it Bevin. She doesn't want to tell us." She almost seemed hurt by this idea.

"Kaitlyn…It's not that I don't _trust_ you…but it would just be easier if you have no chance to accidently say my real name. Perhaps once we get to Denerim and the other migrants leave our party I will tell you…."

The woman scarcely concealed a sniffle, "No..I-I understand. But…is there a reason for…is there a reason why we can't know your name?"

Artalise bit her lip, pondering how to answer the question, "Teyrn Loghain betrayed the King, causing his death, and then turned around and accused the Grey Wardens of …of killing the king. Most of whom died alongside the very king they were said to have betrayed." She stated with bitterness, angry still at the loss this Order she was still so new at had endured. Both Alistair and herself _still_ had no idea how exactly they were needed to kill the Archdemon…all that knowledge and more had perished at Ostagar. She snapped out of her reverie when she heard someone, probably Kaitlyn, clear their throat and with a smile as an apology she continued on, "We need to go to Denerim, but we do not wish to bring attention to our presence there. The city would surely be against us." She stated, relieved to see Kaitlyn nod her head in understanding.

Artalise tilted her head towards the direction of the camp as she heard her name being called out from a distance away. Oak turned at the direction of the voice and barked, wagging his tail.

"I think our presence is missed. But before we go, " Artalise said, looking sternly at Kaitlyn and Bevin, "You must promise me that you won't tell a soul anything that you've seen here. Or been told here."

Kaitlyn and Bevin both nodded their heads, Bevin clearly pleased that he was being entrusted with such an important secret.

Artalise smiled, and then turned to walk back towards the camp. She didn't take more than a couple of steps before she reached a hand behind her back and called forth a little orb of flickering light.

She couldn't see Bevin's face, but she could definitely hear his response.

"_Awesome!"_

_

* * *

_

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

_A.N. Ugh! I am at 70,000 + words and I haven't even arrived at Denerim yet! This is gonna be a loooooong story, folks. Hope you don't mind. :)_

_A.N. As an aside, I think my weekly goal is going to be to write around 5,000 or so words...either in the form of one or two chapters, and most of the time releasing those chapters on the weekend. We'll see if I actually adhere to that goal though...darn real-world obligations!_

_A.N. As always, critiques, whether favorable or unfavorable are welcomed. I'd love to know what you like or don't like about this tale of mine..._


	23. Chapter 19:  Failed Deceptions

_A.N. I got so motivated at the thought of being in Denerim, I managed to type up a story for mid-week posting! w00t!_

_A.N. Three cheers to Arsinoe de Blassenville and fussycat for reviewing! _

* * *

~~~V~A~V~~~

* * *

It felt good to be in civilization again.

Artalise leaned back against the wooden bench and looked around the inside of the Gnawed Noble tavern. It was apparently _the_ place to stay and the Arlessa had been insistent on them staying there, as it would give them instant prestige amongst the merchants of Denerim. The next day, so the Arlessa had said, would be so much easier if they could be seen emerging from this building. Only the richest, best connected merchants could afford to stay at the tavern. Any merchant worth their salt would be clamoring to get their attention on the morrow.

As her finger circled the mug of beer before her, she lost herself in her memories of the events that had occurred previously that day. They had finally arrived at Denerim towards dusk, as the city was transforming as the merchants closed shop for the night. Most of the migrants had pressed a few beaten coppers into Morrigan's hand before she decided to place an empty box near her and directed the women to drop their coins into it. There was only so much touching the human mage could handle.

The farewell between Kaitlyn, Bevin, and herself had been brief, as Kaitlyn never had been the same since the night of the darkspawn attack. Bevin, on the other hand, only seemed to like Artalise more. He had even extracted a promise from Artalise that she would come visit them later, which she actually hoped she would be able to keep. They had taken a few steps away from where she had stood when Bevin suddenly turned around and rushed back towards her. She looked down at him with some curiosity. He tugged on her sleeve once, but when she merely stared back at him and tilted her head in confusion, he tugged again and waved his other hand for her to lower her head. This amused her greatly – she felt like an apprentice exchanging secrets all over again – and she did so with relish.

Bevin cupped his hands around her ear and whispered, "You said you were going to tell us your name."

She muffled her laughter and nodded her head in acknowledgment. She then cupped his ear with her hands and whispered back "Artalise."

Bevin instantly brightened, "You're right – that _is _similar. It's got the same letters and everything!" he said, not bothering to whisper in her ear, but he still kept his voice down as if he didn't want to attract unwanted attention. "Know who else has a name similar to yours?"

She shook her head, still bemused

"The fighter that Merchant Moreen hired."

That caused her to draw back a little in surprise, before it suddenly hit her. Artalise. Alistair. Their names _were _very similar. She looked at him quizzically , "Wait, Bevin – how did you find out his real name?"

Bevin puffed his chest out, clearly pleased with himself, "Well, I was passing by his tent and I heard him inside talking with the red-haired woman with the funny accent." He then grinned widely, "They were talking about _you!_"

"Me?" She asked weakly, not liking where this was going.

"He _likes_ you!" Bevin then nearly collapsed in a fit of giggles as Artalise blanched. Alistair had talked to Leliana about _her?_ Herself and Leliana were definitely having a conversation about this later…

Kaitlyn had been watching quietly from the sidelines, but she finally stepped up and put an arm around Bevin, causing him to quiet down. He looked at both the woman with some confusion.

"What? Isn't that good news?" He asked innocently enough. "You were always so ecstatic when someone told you that they liked you. Even if he was ugly like-" Bevin was cut off from saying anything more when his older sister's hand suddenly flew to cover his mouth.

"Quiet, Bevin! Let's not bore her with such silly tales." She scolded him.

Artalise smiled apologetically, "No, it's OK Kaitlyn. I know what he was trying to do." She then looked down at Bevin, faking a wider smile, "Thank you for telling me Bevin. Next time I need someone to spy for me, I might just have to hire you." She stated with a grin, pleased at bringing a look of pride back to the young boy.

"Thank you for everything Arta-Arista. I am sure Bevin would love to stay and talk some more," She stated, pointedly looking down at her younger brother, who nodded eagerly, "But we have to get going to our relatives. Where they live…its not so good to travel when it is dark."

The thought of something happening to these two worried her a great deal, "Would you…like an escort?"

"Oh no!" Kaitlyn shook her head, "We should be fine. So long as we leave. Now." She tugged on Bevin's shoulder lightly. He looked up at her, before heaving a big sigh and looking back at Artalise and waving his hand, "Remember your promise!"

Artalise waved her hand as well, "I will!" She said as she watched Kaitlyn and Bevin walk off.

She hoped she would be able to fulfill her promise.

_I still do._ She thought as she took another sip of beer, enjoying the taste of something besides water. This was _much_ more potent than the usual beer served at the Circle, but it still brought back memories of home. Even if that home was in shambles and most of her childhood friends were dead.

She lifted her mug up and swished the remaining liquid around absently as she closed her eyes and let the gratifying feeling of the alcohol wash over her, her mind becoming pleasantly clouded. She was tired of thinking, calculating, pondering. Now her mind was blank, and she couldn't be happier. Perhaps she would actually be able to sleep instead of having her dreams haunted by either her past or Archdemons.

After a few more silent minutes passed she got up from the table, stumbling ever so slightly as the effect of the alcohol became even more pronounced, and she grinned lopsidedly as she rubbed the side of her face. _Such a pleasant evening…such wonderful friends and allies…I wonder if Leliana is still awake and she can braid my hair? Maybe I can ask her about - _ She shook her head fiercely – _No, no no. No thinking about that. Think about kittens. Puppies._

The following mental images made her giggle to herself as she looked around for the stairs that led to the second floor, and her room.

She didn't notice the stare of a blonde elf with a tattooed face watching her walk up the stairs.

* * *

~~~V~Z~V~~~

* * *

It had been good to see that his informant had not lied. Though it was honestly not so surprising, as while the man was fairly nondescript, typical, the woman…ah, she would be difficult not to notice. Her brilliantly red hair, and more intriguing still, the lovely tattoo on her face. He was sure he would have found her tomorrow through his own means. But, the few silver he had paid the migrant woman had given him an evening's worth of observation. For himself, that was nearly priceless.

It was true, he was a Crow – an Antivan Crow, which was perhaps the only thing anyone knew about his lovely country. But, in truth, that name did not fit what he truly was…he was not one to pick at someone's dejected remains like his namesake may indicate. No, he was more like a cat. He so loved to play with his prey before silencing it.

He grinned over his mug of foul-tasting Ferelden beer. And play he would. But not tonight.

* * *

~~~V~A~V~~~

* * *

Their morning had been a busy one, though thankfully it hadn't started that way. All of them had awoken at dawn, as they had for over the past two weeks, but all of them, even the serious, single-minded Sten had lazed around in their beds, enjoying the feel of an actual mattress below them. And then they had enjoyed a warm meal made by someone who actually cooked for a living. It was one of the few things that they could all agree on – civilization had been missed! While they ate, Leliana had reminded Morrigan of everything the minstrel had told her over their weeks long journey to Denerim, of how to haggle, especially, but in general just how to act like a merchant. Morrigan had looked bored, and sometimes impatient with Leliana, but she had let the woman talk uninterrupted. Artalise listened intently, realizing that she had obviously missed some interesting information over those nights when she spent her meals with Kaitlyn and Bevin instead of her party members. Yet, she felt like she still came out on top, as she had welcomed the chance to pretend that she was someone other than a Grey Warden and a mage. At least for a little while.

Then, they had spent most of the day before the sun reached its zenith amongst the merchants, visiting each of the ones that the Arlessa had written out for Morrigan. The Arlessa, at Bann Teagan's insistence, had also written letters to each of the merchants she had had dealings with before, all saying something to the effect that they should trust Morrigan, as she, the Arlessa of Redcliffe, had given her Redcliffe's own seal of approval. It admittedly did make trading go much quicker and as their cargo disappeared the pouches of coin they wore grew much heavier.

After a quick lunch at one of the many stands that were serving food in the marketplace, they headed over to the Brother Genitivi's house, which was blissfully situated near the Gnawed Noble tavern.

Artalise had to admit that when she learned that they were going to be going to the house of a Chantry brother scholar, she had expected some small hovel. Instead, they now stood outside a rather expansive, well kept up house. Apparently research into the Urn paid off better than she had expected.

Morrigan rapped on the door, once. When there was no answer she tried again, this time receiving a muffled response and they were relieved to hear the sound of locks being undone. The young man inside looked surprised at the group of people that stood outside the door, in particular with Sten. Sten had always drawn the most looks out of the party, especially now that he was in armor crafted for him by a talented armor smith in Redcliffe. Imposing didn't even begin to cover it.

"Y-yes? Can I help you with something?" The young man asked nervously as his eyes swept over the visible hilts of all their weapons.

"We are looking for Brother Genitivi." Morrigan stated simply.

"Brother Genitivi is not here…"

"But is this not his house?"

"Yes…"

"And who are you then?"

"Renald. Brother Genitivi's apprentice." He paused a moment, as if debating whether or not to continue, "I'm Weylon's replacement, and who are you?"

Artalise pursed her lips together as she tried to imagine why Renald would want to clarify he was Weylon's replacement, a question she would have never asked. _Maybe he is just an outgoing sort of guy?_ "We…we were sent by Arlessa Isolde to see how his research is coming along. Is there any news?"

Recognition flickered across Renald's eyes as the Arlessa was mention and he nodded his head, "Ah, the Arlessa! Please, come in and I will explain."

Artalise hadn't been wrong in her opinion of the Brother's place – the inside was expansive, with a huge table in the main room. A glance to the side showed a well stocked kitchen. Brother Genitivi _did_ live very well for a mere scholar, that was for sure. She sniffed the air, her nose wrinkling at the faintest odor of something quite unpleasant.

"It is unfortunate that you did not arrive a few weeks earlier so Brother Genitivi could tell you himself…." Renald stated, almost nervously, as he walked them to the main room and turned around to face them, shaking his head sadly, "He said that he was going Lake Calenhad as he thought he had found a clue that would lead him to the Urn."

"Lake Calenhad is over a weeks journey away…Is it so unreasonable to think he would be out of contact for so long?" Artalise asked, growing impatient. Renald looked at her with some surprise – evidently not expecting to hear such a tone coming from an elf.

He sniffed at her, clearly miffed at her tone, "The problem is that he usually sends letters, sometimes near daily. It's…it's something he's done since he started traveling as it would let someone know if something has happened to him….I got letters the first couple of days after he left, but after that...nothing."

"Did he happen to say what the clue was?" She asked, looking around the room for some possibilities. Her eyes were soon drawn to an open door on the other side of the room, through which she could see what looked like a library. And probably where he stored his notes.

"N-no…Just that he was going to be going to Lake Calenhad." Renald answered, starting to shift nervously under the gaze that Alistair was giving him.

"Well then, would you mind if we had a look at his notes? Surely, as a legendary scholar, he wrote something down…" Artalise said, taking a step towards the door.

She was blocked with a quick movement from Renald. His nervousness had disappeared and he actually appeared angry. _Something is not right here…_she thought as her brows furrowed down in a silent question to him.

"Don't you think that I, his apprentice, would have already been through his notes? If I say it wasn't written down, _then it wasn't written down_!"

Renald's outburst put them all on edge – she could hear it in the subtle noise of metal against metal as weapons were readied.

"The Arlessa paid good money for those notes. Its only right that we have access to them. Maybe a new set of eyes would reveal something that you didn't see before."

The young man took a couple of deep breaths, looking at each person in the room, even Oak, warningly. "Please. You have the information you need. Go to Lake Calenhad and see if you can find him there."

Renald and Artalise exchanged glares for a few long moments, before Artalise decided to raise the stakes and took one small step towards the small room.

Renald moved so quickly that it wasn't until Artalise first felt the crackle of magic that she realized that he was a mage. She mentally cursed herself for being so daft as a mental shockwave nearly knocked her down.

Alistair had had a hunch about what Renald was, apparently, due to the fact that he was prepared enough that the mage's spell had no effect on him, much to Renald's horror. He took a few quick steps to where Renald stood and placed the tip of his sword on the young man's neck.

"Who are you? Tell us the truth, or I swear by Andraste I will run you through!" He snarled, pressing the tip of the sword deeper into the man's throat. Artalise and the others were slowly climbing to their feet, shaking their heads to try to get rid of the aftereffects of the spell.

Renald just looked at Alistair and smiled maniacally, "He will meet his death because he is not a true believer! Andraste has arisen! All shall bow before her!"

Alistair actually pulled his sword away, looking at the man in confusion over what he had just said, "What in Maker's name are you talking about?"

"Andraste has been born again, in a form more glorious than her previous one! We shall protect her! We shall die for her! We shall-"

Renald was suddenly prevented from speaking any more by Sten, who with one powerful swing separated the man's head from his body. As blood started to spurt out, Artalise walked over to the body, and once she lowered her hands toward it let flames leap out and cauterize the fatal wound, trying to prevent blood from squirting everywhere.

"What a strange little man." Morrigan stated, breaking the silence that had fallen over the rest of her party members.

"What was he talking about? Andraste has risen?" Leliana asked to no one in particular, her brows furrowed as she tried to make sense of it.

Morrigan smirked, "Twould throw the world into a loop, would it not, to have your beloved Prophet return to Thedas." She rolled her eyes as she looked down at the decapitated corpse and shrugged, "Twas just prattle from an insane man. Though," she said, her eyes narrowing as her smile widened, "Is that not what most of the Tevinter Imprerium thought of your Prophetess?"

"Oh, shut up Morrigan!" Leliana shouted, clearly flustered and confused about this new wrinkle in their plan to find the Urn.

Artalise pursed her lips as she gazed down at the dead man, wondering what he had been talking about. It was just as well that Sten had killed him, however, as she doubted he would have told them anything. Running a hand through her hair she let out a sigh, "Well, shall we check out the good Brother's library and see if he's left us any information?"

She didn't bother waiting to see if anyone else was going to follow her, instead just walking towards the back room. Her steps, however, became slower the nearer she got to the back room as the stench intensified. She brought a hand up to her nose and breathed out her mouth, but she still couldn't help but gag as she passed the threshold leading to the back room.

"Ugh! What died in there?" Leliana muttered as she nearly retched behind her.

Artalise had her nose buried in her sleeve and held her breath while she looked around the room. After she walked a bit further in, turning her head to the right she let out a cry and stumbled backwards, almost into Sten.

"There's a rotting body in here!" She exclaimed, her gags turning into dry heaves. The stench was absolutely atrocious. "Morrigan, can you freeze him?" She gasped out between heaves. If one body smelt this bad, she was thankful that she had been unable to smell the dead at Ostagar.

"Gladly" She stated as ice flew from her hands and froze the body, keeping the spell going until the ice was at least an inch thick. The smell of rotten flesh still lingered, but at the very least the ice took the edge off the most foul overtones of it.

Alistair, his voice muffled as he tried to cover his nose from the stench with a rag he had picked up from the previous room, stared at the now frozen body for a few long moments before glancing back at Artalise, "I think we found Weylon…." He said, his tone sing-songy like a child who was about to reveal where another child had been hiding.

Artalise shook her head, not because she disagreed with Alistair, but because she was appalled at the murder of the Brother's real apprentice. There was something much darker going on than she had thought. First Renald's exclamation about a risen Andraste…and now the rotting corpse of Weylon. What did it all mean?

Her reverie was broken by Leliana, who rushed back into the back room with a brazier which was filled with flowers, stems and leaves of various herbs.

"I do not know what exactly these plants are…but I imagine their smell will be more pleasant than fetid flesh, yes?" She asked in part rhetorically, in part not. Morrigan, still a bit worn from her previous spell, walked over to where Leliana had placed the brazier and looked through all the herbs and flowers, ensuring that at the very least there would be no harmful side effects from burning them. She then nodded to Artalise, who in turn lit the kindle and twigs in the brazier before causing a breeze in the room, hopefully circulating the rotten air out and ensuring that the scent of the herbs would make the room more habitable. By the look of the books and vellum laying all over the place, they could be here for a while.

* * *

~~~V~A~V~~~

* * *

She was right. So far they had been there for hours, pouring over notes where the Brother had written various locations of where the Urn was, only to read a few pages later _why_ those various locations wouldn't work. Admittedly, sometimes they got distracted by a particularly funny turn of phrase or description he had written down and would read it aloud . Sten, being the only one who wasn't able to read the King's Tongue, had at first occupied his time by looking at the few pieces of art Genitivi had in his house, or pacing around the Great Hall. As the hours wore on, and after Morrigan had had to refreeze the dead body several time, Sten eventually took it upon himself to get rid of the body.

Artalise glanced up only for a moment when she heard what sounded like tens of little balls tumbling out of a box and rolling across the ground. It sounded like it was coming from the kitchen. She had first thought that is was Oak getting into mischief, but a quick glance downward to her side told her that it couldn't be, as the hound was snoozing contently by her . She then assumed it was Sten, as he was the only one not in the room and she was proven correctly when she saw the qunari reenter with an empty sack, his face, as usual, blank with emotion.

He then started to transfer the frozen body to the sack, sometimes using his sword to break off a frozen appendage in order to facilitate putting it into the sack. When the body was stuffed fully into the sack, Sten opened up a door to the small backyard, and more importantly, Artalise figured, to where a hole would have been dug for chamber pot dumping. Hopefully it was big enough for a bloody sack of body parts. Or, at the very least, there was a shovel outside.

Artalise sighed running a hand through her hair again as she looked up and stared at the wall in front of her. Surely there had to be something here regarding what the good Brother had found. She closed the book she had been reading on the floor and got up from her kneeling position, wincing a little as she realized that her calves had fallen asleep. After rubbing her calves a little bit she started to limp over to where she saw some chests that they hadn't opened yet, having focused their efforts on the plentiful notes that he kept on his desk. Pushing her misgivings aside regarding looking through the private belongings of Brother Genitivi (already they had found some documents that they had all snickered over as they were no doubt suppose to be for his eyes alone), she opened up one of the chests, only to find various bits of clothing and blankets. It was the same with the second chest. However, she was pleased when she opened the third chest to see a well worn notebook. Opening up she was even more pleased to see that it was a journal, even bordered on ecstatic when she saw the dates were from the past year.

She quickly skimmed through the last few pages, stopping when she came to the following passage,

"_Met with man who couldn't remember his own name in the outskirts of West Hill today after being told by the local townspeople of the ludicrous stories he would tell of his travels in the Frostback Mountains many years ago. Not a soul believed him, but one mentioned that he thought he remembered the man, from forthwith known as Bill, talking about the Urn and Andraste. From townspeople's suggestions I bought several jugs of the strongest alcohol I could find and went to his small shack in the middle of nowhere. Bill was out of shack so I waited many hours. Many many hours, drinking some of the alcohol myself. By time Bill arrived, I was already feeling pretty good, and therefore, in the honor of scholarly truthfulness, I must question the validity of what follows. Even more so because Bill only started to talk about the Urn when he had finished one whole jug. Regarding the Urn, he said that he had stumbled across a small village called Haven, "_

Haven? Her heart quickened as she continued reading, eager to read what followed.

"_inhabited by a strange, ancient cult, rumored to worship Andraste," _

_But doesn't that also describe Chantry proper?_ She mused with a grin as she continued on.

"_What followed after that was a ridiculously exaggerated story about how he escaped from said village right before he was to be sacrificed in some dark blood magic ritual after being turned away from entering a old temple that he said was guarded by a man that knew everyone's darkest secrets and spoke of the Ashes. He said a great many more things, but they were clearly the result of an exaggerated story so shall not be repeated in this journal. Of note, however, Bill said that their priests are men instead of women and the villagers made ample references to Andraste being reborn. What made me question his sanity even more, however is when Bill also said that he saw a dragon flying in the mountain peaks right above Haven. After asking the hermit to touch his nose as well as judging his ability to walk in a straight line, I had determined that he was not drunk yet. Perhaps just crazy, like the men at West Hill said."_

Dragon? She gulped before flipping and skimming through the last few pages, but there was no further information about Haven except an incredibly rough map that had Haven marked on it that probably did nothing buy convey the idea that Haven was located somewhere southeast of Redcliffe. While he never clarified it in his journal, she was sure that he had gone to find this Haven. With its strange cult. And a dragon.

_Perhaps Terrance was right. Pursuing the Urn sounds like a bad idea._

_

* * *

_

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

_A.N. Blight it! I wrote myself into an issue with the timeline. Hopefully its unnoticable (if you have no idea what I am talking about...yes!), but if it is, just know that I realize it and will hopefully be able to resolve it. Who knew doing Redcliffe first would screw my timeline up so much?_

_A.N. OK, so I know cultist dude calls himself Weylon in the game, but I figured that would be a pretty retarded thing to do, because I would think that Genitivi would have some friends who would come visit him and know instantly that "Renald" wasn't Weylon. _

_A.N. And umm, yay for appearance of everyone's favorite Antivan? I'm insanely nervous about writing him well (thank goodness he was only in this chapter for a few lines...and no speaking!) Yes, its uber short, but rest assured, there should be a bigger role in the very near future for dear Zevran (Big shocker I know. Hope I didn't spoil it for you too much)..._


	24. Chapter 20:  Duty and Loyalty

_A.N. May the muses of jackkel dragon and Arsinoe de Blassenville give them as much inspiration and motivation as their reviews gave me!_

_A.N. BTW, Apologies for those who put this story on alerts and got a second notice of a chapter being added...that was me adding a chapter where I will post chapter summaries. Won't happen again (I hope!)_

* * *

~~~V~A~V~~~

* * *

If she put the book down, if she hid it underneath some of the clothes of the chests she already searched, no one would know. They would maybe spend a couple more hours futilely reading through the Brother's notes before they would give up. There would be no quest for the Urn. More importantly there would be no chance of a strange cult…or a dragon.

"Oh? What is this you have found, Artalise?" came the accented voice of Leliana, and Artalise blanched as she realized that the minstrel was probably looking over her shoulder by how close her voice sounded. She heard a small gasp and suddenly the book was snatched from her hands. It took all her willpower to suppress a groan. So much for avoiding this fool's errand.

The room was quiet for a moment as all eyes turned to Leliana, who was quickly skimming the passages on Haven. "The Urn is in Haven? The Brother Genitivi truly has found the Urn?"

The book Alistair had been reading fell to the ground with a dull thud as he rushed over to see what Leliana was reading. Morrigan too, stopped reading, though she carefully put the book back from where she had drawn it and walked slowly over to Artalise's side, crossing her arms as she eyed Leliana and Alistair with some hesitation.

Leliana gingerly handed Alistair the book, as if it was about to fall apart at any moment. The minstrel-turned-sister could scarcely conceal her laughter of excitement. The surprised look on Alistair's face soon turned to joy as he read the passage. It was obvious that he had skipped over the parts about the cult and dragon, and focused only on the parts he wanted to truly see – that the Urn was in Haven. With every moment that passed, the doubt gnawing on Artalise's heart grew.

"This _has_ to be it! This _has_ to be where Genitivi went – where the Urn is!" Alistair exclaimed, joining Leliana in her laughter. The two of them looked like they were about to hug each other in shared excitement.

Sten walked back into the room at this moment, his face registering some surprise at the sudden appearance of emotion in his party members.

"Sten! We've found it! We know where the Urn is!" Alistair said with a huge grin on his face, which was completely ignored by the qunari.

"I still fail to see how this Urn will cure the Blight" Sten responded, almost instantly killing the smiles on both Leliana's and Alistair faces.

"…We need to find it to save the Arl." Alistair explained after a few moments of silence.

"You have yet to explain how saving this Arl will stop the Blight." Sten countered, his cold eyes peering into Alistair's, causing him to shift uncomfortably.

"He'll be able to…help us." Alistair explained, weakly.

"How?"

Leliana, seeing Alistair clearly grasping at straws, took a step forward, drawing Sten's attention to herself, her chin jutting out defiantly, "The Arl is a good man. He has done much and deserves to live!"

"Oh? You know this?" Morrigan quipped in, arching an eyebrow at Leliana.

"I…I-Alistair told me he did so!"

Feeling desperate Alistair looked desperately over at Artalise, "Artalise! Surely you understand why we must go after the Urn?"

Artalise sucked in her lips a little bit as she mused her answer, debating which was greater – duty to her friends, and to a man she had never known, or duty to the mission of the Grey Wardens, to end the Blight that threatened the lives of so many. "I think…our first priority should be the Blight."

Alistair furrowed his brow in confusion, "…What does that mean?" The hesitation in his voice indicated that he knew what she was saying, but he was reluctant to acknowledge it.

"I think we should pursue the treaties." She had once sworn to be loyal to her friends…._Does this count as a betrayal? _

Alistair looked absolutely dumbfounded, as did Leliana, "Wh-what? How can you say that? The Arl can help us!" he almost cried out.

Artalise took a deep breath before answering, bringing her head up to look Alistair directly in his eyes, steeling herself to keep herself strong as she saw the hurt in his face.

"I just don't see how Arl Eamon, himself, can help us. What we need is his armies, which we can still have whether he lives or not."

"_Whether he lives or not_?" Alistair asked, plainly aghast at the easiness at which she played the Final Judge.

"Bann Teagan can take over until Connor is of age."

"But Connor is a _mage_! Wynne was made aware of it, and I imagine he could very well already be in the Circle" Alistair countered.

She had completely forgotten about Connor's circumstance! In the rush of the Circle, Anders, Cullen…but no matter, "Bann Teagan will take over permanently then. The Arling will still stay within the family, and I doubt any will oppose such a measure."

Alistair didn't say anything, instead he merely stared at the woman who wanted to condemn the man who had given him so much kindness to death.

"But there is still the problem of Loghain, hmm?" Leliana stated, her hands on her hips, "Who better to deal with Loghain than Arl Eamon?"

"In the stories my people tell, the Grey Wardens first duty is to the Blight. Not to petty politics." Sten casually mentioned, his gaze now at no one in particular, but the statement was clearly directed at Leliana's concern about Loghain. Though perhaps he sought also to remind Alistair of the burden the Grey Wardens must shoulder. One could never really tell with Sten.

"Are we just going to let that murderer walk then? Have the Grey Wardens no sense of justice?" Alistair practically shouted as he started to pace, clearly disturbed by the refusal of not only members of the party, but of his fellow Warden to go after the Urn.

Artalise gritted her teeth, "I know what we, as Grey Wardens, lost that day at Ostagar, and I want to see Loghain brought to justice for it as much as you do. But, our mission is not to dispense with justice as we see it. Alistair – we need to focus on ending this Blight! Politics can come…after."

Leliana scoffed, "Is that all this is to you? Politics?" She shook her head sadly, and quickly closed the distance between herself and Artalise, eliciting a warning growl from Oak that she blatantly ignored. She put both her hands on the elf's thin shoulders, ensuring all attention was focused on her, "This is the Urn – the Urn that contains the blessed ashes of Andraste! Can you imagine what hope you will give all of Thedas if we discover it?"

So, the Sister in Leliana had finally reared her head again. Artalise shrugged her shoulders, loosening Leliana's hold on her, "I will give people hope by ending the Blight." She pointed at the book that Alistair still held in his hand, "Did you read the description Genitivi wrote? He got this information from a _drunk_. Did you see the map in there? He might as well have just stated that this 'Haven' lies somewhere southeast of Redcliffe."

Leliana blinked rapidly as she tried to come up with a response, "He obviously felt trusted this man's story enough to check it out himself! Why should we not trust him?"

"Tis because searching in the mountains for a small village may take _months._ Have you ever been to the Frostbacks, _Sister_?" Morrigan broke in, eyeing Leliana with no small amount of disgust. When Leliana shook her head slowly, Morrigan smiled crookedly, "I have. 'Twould be no small feat to find a village that you've never been to, nor have accurate directions to. One can spend years in that area and still not have explored it all"

"While potentially leaving thousands of innocents to die." Artalise chimed in, crossing her arms as she hoped to see Alistair and Leliana bend. The two in question exchanged glances, before Leliana cupped Alistair's ear and whispered something to him. His eyes widened a little, clearly surprised at what she had told him, but when he looked around at the hard eyes focused on him, remembering all that had been said, he clenched his jaw and nodded down at her, before bringing his focus back on Artalise, his eyes full of steel, "Fine. We shall split up, then. Leliana and myself shall go after the Urn. Everyone else can pursue the treaties."

Now it was Artalise's turn to be shocked, "Y-you want to split up?" She asked though it was more a reaction of surprise than truly needing clarification. When Alistair nodded resolutely, she brought a hand up and scratched the side of her head, "Just the two of you?" She asked, doubtfully.

Leliana spoke up, "Wynne will go with us. I talked with her about the Urn at Redcliffe. She seemed most interested in pursuing it herself."

Morrigan coughed, though it was obvious that it was merely a poor attempt to hide her laughter at the situation. Leliana gave her a look that also made a poor attempt at hiding the amount of disgust she felt for the woman at that moment.

Artalise turned her attention to Alistair, "You feel so strongly about this, you will forsake your _duty_ to the Grey Wardens to pursue the end of the blight?" She paused a moment, contemplating if she should continue. When she saw no change in his look, she decided to do so, "What would Duncan think?"

She knew it was a low blow, a knife in the tender side. She knew how much Alistair had revered the man. Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that Duncan would agree with her – the Blight was more important to end than saving the life of any one man.

The question hit Alistair like an uppercut to the jaw, and she could see from his expression that his mind what reeling from it. He looked at her, almost in confusion, as if he didn't believe that she actually brought Duncan up, "What?"

"Duncan spoke often of duty. Of honor. _Of sacrifice."_ The knife in the side twisted sideways.

Where once there was pain in his eyes, there now was rage. She had gone too far – instead of seeing reason, all he saw now was an insult. He marched angrily towards Artalise, though he was stopped from getting within arm's distance from her by a growling Oak. His leg twitched, like he was thinking of actually kicking the mabari, but he wisely decided against it, "Are you accusing _me_ of not doing my _duty_ as a Grey Warden? I-I am willing to give my life to the cause of the Grey Wardens!"

Artalise lowered her eyes in thought for a brief moment before raising them back up to look at Alistair defiantly, "The decision to sacrifice oneself is a thousand times easier than the decision to sacrifice another. When does it say that 'In death – sacrifice' refers only to us?" Her tone became more sharp as she had continued on, as she couldn't help but be affected by Alistair's anger.

Alistair clenched his jaw and did nothing but stare at Artalise for a few long moments. When he finally spoke, Artalise nearly jumped in surprise, "Our decision is made. Leliana and I will be going after the Urn." He then walked over and grabbed Leliana's arm, perhaps a bit rougher than he should have, judging from the shocked expression on her face. He jerked his head towards the door, and she, and everyone else, realized what he wanted. She nodded her head, and without another word the two of them walked out of the room, and out of his house.

Artalise just hoped they weren't going to leave Denerim as well.

* * *

~~~V~Z~V~~~

* * *

He smiled with pleasure as the warm liquid slipped down his throat. Like with so many other things, Fereldens, for the life of them, could not brew a decent cup of caffè. For being so far away from home, The Singing Kestrel brought him awfully close to feeling like he was back in Antivan City, especially as it was one of the few places where the sweet sounds of his native Antivan filled his ears and he could taste the drinks from his mother land. And also one of the few places where everyone knew who he was, though he had uttered the name of his employer to no one.

"The girl, she is still alive." His drinking partner stated from across the table.

He grinned, "Another brilliant observation, Master Ignacio. Now, I can see why you have done so well."

Master Ignacio ignored the sarcasm, instead lifting up his own cup to drink the thick, full liquid, "My finch told me that you were in the same room with her last night. Yet you made no move. How cautious of you."

He tsked low in his throat, "Please, Ignacio. I am no fledging who will attack at first sight on my mark. You shame me by thinking so little of me."

Ignacio shrugged, "Master Zevran had always been known for a quick job."

"But also, I hope, for a fully completed job."

"And for at times going over and beyond what the mission requires."

Zevran decided to ignore the hidden implication in Ignacio's statement. He would not remember…_her_... Instead, he first took another sip of the caffè before flashing Ignacio his brightest smile, "Come, come, Ignacio. You know as well as I do that it would be pointless for me to kill the girl before I kill the man. If I take the girl out before the man, I can not doubt that it will make silencing the man that much harder."

"Is there a reason why you pursue the girl now then, if you do not intend to complete her contract soon?"

Zevran laughed, "Ah! How cruel a man would I be if I took her away from this world without experiencing the best of it?"

"She is a mage, no? I am sure she has experienced her share of the best. A finch told me though, that your other mark is a templar? If you are intent on ensuring your marks experience the best this world has to offer, should you not be focusing your attentions on him?"

Zevran was actually surprised at this comment from Ignacio - it went so against the usual serious demeanor of the man, "Oh! You are surely a good man to care so for his well-being so! In truth, I had thought about it, but it would take me much longer than the time I have to have him succumb to my _wiles_. The girl? _Much_ easier."

Zevran's explanation was for the most part lost on Ignacio, who sighed and leaned back in the bench, and watched him closely, "But, you _do_ truly intend to complete the contract?"

This caught him by surprise. "What is this? Since when does a Crow never complete a contract he's bid on?"

Ignacio shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, "I mean to say, that your marks are Grey Wardens. What if the rumors are true, hmm? What if there really is a Blight?"

He mirrored Ignacio's reaction, shrugging his own shoulders nonchalantly, "What care do I have, really, for what happens to this nation that can not even make a good bottle of wine, hmm? Besides, I do doubt that the darkspawn can swim and there are many many nations between this country and fair Antiva. Blight or not, after this contract, I can return to Antiva and be…at peace. " He grinned at the irony of the last two words. In truth, it would be anything but peaceful.

"Ah. You do this to _live_, then?"

Eyes narrowed at Ignacio as the elf leaned back in his chair, looking at Ignacio with no small amount of curiosity, "And what do you mean by this, my friend?"

"Speculation. You have… not been yourself. Your self-imposed exile in Ferelden has spurred some lively debates amongst the Crows."

He hid his true feelings with a smile, "Ah, it is good to hear that they still think of Zevran Arainai! You may tell them that I am flattered by their concern."

Before answering, Ignacio waved down a waitress, who, when she say who it was immediately took his request for more caffè to the kitchen. While he waited, Ignacio turned his attention back to Zevran.

"Their concern is pure business, Zevran, as you no doubt know. You have been a good earner for them, this is true, but after what happened with Rinna…" Ignacio noted the slight tensing up in the elf at the name, filing it away for future reference, "There have been some questions about your loyalty to the Crows."

Zevran picked his nearly empty cup up, and handed it over to the waitress with a fetching smile, which she returned in kind, if not with even more gusto. She then turned to Ignacio to fill his cup, and when finished bowed in departure, lowering herself perhaps a bit too far to give Zevran an appeasing show of her best assets. They were most definitely worth an applause, and perhaps he would give her one later…

He reluctantly pulled his attention away from her now sashaying hip as she returned to the front, to focus back on Ignacio, arching an eyebrow, "My loyalty is in question? This is news to me."

"Is it? I suppose that is good to hear."

"Ah, do not worry, Master Ignacio! Now tell me, is lovely Isabela still scheduled to sail in a week's time?"

The older man nodded his head curtly, but said nothing in reply.

"Good. If I do not see you before then, I will, at the very least, ensure that my sparrow will tell your finch about my success?"

Master Ignacio waved him off, "If you succeed, I am sure word will spread quicker than your sparrow can fly."

Zevran laughed in agreement, "True, very true! But alas, now I am afraid I must head out to take care of some business. I am sure you know how it is, my friend."

With that Zevran got up, reaching for his small pouch of coins, though he put it back in place when he saw Ignacio shake his head with a frown and wave him off. Zevran bowed graciously, albeit melodramatically, and made his way to the door, eager to see if his mark was back in the tavern, and hopefully drinking again. Alcohol, even made-from-dirt Ferelden alcohol made his chances all the better...He had a good feeling about tonight.

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

_A.N. I'm thinking I might be getting into dragon age modding here shortly...so expect story production rates to go down as I spend time I would normally use for writing on learning the monstrosity that is the DA toolset. I'm just satisfied that I have gotten to Zev. :)_

_A.N. Speaking of him, Zevran dialogue is so hard! I hope I have done him some justice. My muse was completely exhausted by the time I got to this end of the dialogue...so I decided I might as well post what I got because I have no idea when she is going to start whispering in my ear again..._

_A.N. If you haven't read "Blood Poison" by Decantate I would *highly* recommend doing so. Its basically the angle I was going at for party dynamics only done infinitely times better. Her Neria *rocks*! And her story is honest-to-Maker like poetry. Truly beautiful stuff that shames me as a writer. I loved it. :)_


	25. Chapter 21:  Damsels in distress

_A.N. I was glad to see that Arsinoe de Blassenville, kirbster676, and TanithAeyrs enjoyed the last chapter! Thanks for letting my know. XD_

_A.N. My longest chapter yet! Had to make it up to you guys for being a couple of days late...hope you all find it interesting!_

* * *

~~~V~A~V~~~

* * *

Artalise awoke with a start, sitting straight up in her bed and gasping as the sheet fell away and she realized that she was naked. She hurriedly grabbed at the sheets and pulled them back over her bare breasts, her nostrils flaring in alarm. After a few breaths, she suddenly realized that the air smelt differently than the smells of the city that wafted into her room at the Gnawed Noble Tavern. The air here smelt of the sea. And rotting fish.

The moon thankfully gave her some light to see by, at least the little bit that came through the thick curtains. She ran a shaky hand through her hair as she tried to get control of her breathing.

Hesitantly she looked over to the other side of the bed, cringing in preparation of what she saw. Thankfully, whoever he was, _wait,_ _He is a He, right? Or was I more out of it than I thought…_ she was relieved to see that he, as it was very much a man, still slept, his face turned away from her so that all she could see was tussled blonde hair, She noted, bemusedly, how her bed-partner preferred to wear his hair the way she wore hers- tiny braids on either side of their head, brushing up against his elven ears. Peering closer, she also noted a tattoo on his face, and for the briefest of moments she actually admired it for its graceful simplicity. Then she shook her head briskly, trying to shake her current train of thought from her head, and instead focused on trying to figure out where her clothing was.

_Clothing…no….not there…and not there…there!_ Artalise grimaced as she noticed how close to the door her robes and small clothes laid scattered. Apparently, whatever she had done last night, it most certainly was not playing coy. She paused a moment as she tried to debate whether or not to save the smallest shred of modesty that she could hope to cling to and use the sheet to wrap herself in…but such an action would undoubtedly wake the man beside her. And that would be bad as awkward conversations would undoubtedly ensue.

Grimacing, she carefully moved her legs to the edge of the bed sought the ground with her feet. She then started to shift her weight towards her feet. She suddenly sucked in her breath as she found herself collapsing to the floor, surprised at finding her legs too weak to hold her weight up. More pressing her mind, however, was listening keenly in the dark so hear if the man moved at all. Artalise couldn't believe her luck when all she heard was silence. That worry taken care of, her thoughts instantly went to trying to remember _what_ exactly she had done last night. _Never_ before had her legs felt so weak! She quietly let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, and felt the Fade flow through her as she directed it towards her legs. It didn't take long for her leg strength to return to normal, and she eagerly pushed herself back to her feet and was relieved to feel her legs hold this time. Dusting her naked knees off absentmindedly, she then crept as quietly as the old wood boards would allow her over to her balled up robe. After a worried glance over at the slumbering form, she quickly slipped the thick fabric of her robe over her head.

The faintest of whines sounded from the outside her window and she thought it sounded like Oak…but she brushed the idea from her thinking. Surely, it could not be…. She then reached towards the door's handle to open it to leave but she then let out a small gasp as she realized her belt felt _much _lighter than usual. She quickly knelt down on the floor to search with her hands for her money pouch. When one of her grasping hands wrapped itself around the small pouch, she was actually rather surprised, and looked back at the man again.

_It feels about the same weight as it had last night…so he didn't go after my money right away…Then _what _is he? What did he want?_

She cautiously attached the pouch to her belt, careful to not move too quickly as to cause the coins to jingle too loudly. After taking a few steps towards the door, she paused, and looked back at her bed partner and bit her lip in thinking, before grabbing her pouch and pulling out a few random coins.

Artalise held her hand out to the moonlight, and nodded her head to herself when she saw a few glints of silver. She had no idea what…_an evening_ usually went for in Denerim, but hopefully a few silver and some coppers would cause no offense. Wincing every time an old board creaked, she moved towards the bed stand near the sleeping elf and carefully laid the coins on the table, glancing aside at the man once last time, as if she needed more confirmation that he really _was _still sleeping. And it really looked like he was.

She pressed her lips as she tried once more to try to remember the previous evening…but curiously her memory only went as far back to Brother Genitivi's house…when Alistair and Leliana walked out on them.

Artalise barely managed to suppress a groan as she started to regret whatever had led her to this place. She only wished she knew what had happened, as her carelessness took her by surprise. No longer was she a carefree apprentice in the Tower, able to take liaisons whenever she desired. Especially when they involved strange men and she was in a city controlled by the man who had killed not only the King, but the rest of her Order…and who undoubtedly sought the death of the last two Wardens as well. _Especially seeing as how one claimed to be a royal bastard_, she noted dryly.

She turned and tiptoed around the bed to return to the door. After patting herself down to ensure she had everything (she was relieved to realize that she hadn't brought her staff for some infernal reason), she quietly walked over to the door and opened it while muttering a little prayer to ensure that the door wouldn't creak too loudly.

Just as quietly she shut the door. When the door clicked shut, she doubted she had ever been so relieved in her life. She took in a couple deep breaths before walking quickly down the hallway, keeping her face blank and her pace determined, hoping to avoid any conversations with anyone. Unfortunately, she couldn't make herself deaf, and she almost blushed at some of the sounds coming from the other rooms.

Finding the main room – the bar, was fairly easy, and thankfully there were only few customers who were located in the tavern, and they all seemed preoccupied with talking to a usually a younger and much more attractive person. No one asked her a question; no one so much as looked at her. A quick survey of the room revealed the door at the opposite end of the bar, and she nearly ran towards it, eager to get out of this place she didn't know and didn't want to remember.

The smell of the sea as well as the rotting fish was much stronger outside. _It is nothing compared to Redcliffe though_…. As the door closed behind her, she looked up to see where exactly she was at- _The Pearl_.

A bark suddenly drew her attention back to the street level, and her eyes widened in welcomed surprise when she realized that Oak was walking towards her, his tail wagging happily.

"Oak?"

_Bark!_

She put a finger to her lips, "Shhhh! You'll wake someone up!"

_Whiiiiine._

Artalise smiled crookedly and closed the remaining distance between them before kneeling down and giving the hound a hug, "But I am so happy to see you, my friend! Did you follow me here?" she whispered.

_Woof. _This time is was quiet though- just enough to give her the confirmation she needed.

She pulled away slightly, though one her hands continued to stroke Oak's head , "Ah. So you remember the man I came here with?"

_Groooowl._

"Not liking my choice in men, I take it?

_Woof._

She chuckled and patted his head lightly, "Well, next time, I'll be sure to find a man you approve of, hmm?"

_Woof!_ She laughed at the near insistence implied in Oak's answer

"I don't suppose you know the way back to the Tavern, do you?"

_Woof!_ That time he almost sounded indignant. She held up both her hands in innocence "I meant no offense! My apologies, my friend. _Of course _you know the way back!"

Oak wagged his tail, and with the quietest of _yips_ turned and started to walk down the street at a decent trot, turning his head every once in a while to ensure that Artalise didn't get distracted by another smooth talking man.

She was _his_ after all….

* * *

~~~V~A~V~~~

* * *

Dawn was breaking by the time the two of them arrived at back at the Gnawed Noble Tavern, and the market was already abuzz with activity as the merchants opened up their carts and stores for another morning of hopefully brisk business. She kept her pace quick and with a purpose, thus easily avoiding attention from the humans. To them, she would just be another elf on an errand for her master. Perhaps there would be some curiosity regarding how she followed a mabari, but she put her faith in the fact that the merchants would be too busy to care. She was right.

She rushed through the doors of the Gnawed Noble, Oak now at her side as he knew she knew the rest of the way. No one inside gave her a second glance as she made her way to her room, opening up the door quickly, and causing Morrigan to look up with wide eyes. Her expression soon changed to a smirk when she saw it was Artalise.

"So. Have a good evening?" She asked, closing the black grimiore Artalise had gotten for her from the tower that she had apparently been reading.

Artalise bit her lip and rushed over to the side of Morrigans bed and sat down on it. Morrigan looked alarmed at the closeness of Artalise, and scooted, not very discretely, a few inches in the opposite direction. Artalise was about to answer when she glanced quickly over at the bed Leliana had claimed. It was empty. All the gear was gone. She looked back at Morrigan with some confusion, "What…did they _actually_ leave?" she asked in disbelief.

Morrigan looked surprised and arched an eyebrow as she looked at Artalise up and down, "Oh? You don't remember?"

Artalise sighed and shook her head, "I…I can't remember anything beyond Brother Genitivi's house…it's like the memories were stolen from me…," she answered, sheepishly.

Morrigan didn't say anything, but instead got up off the bed and walked over to in front of the sitting Artalise. The human woman called to herself a small bright ball of light and flashed it in front of Artalise's eyes, Morrigan watching closely to see what their reaction would be. She nodded in confirmation as the light disappeared.

"Twas as I thought. _You_ were poisoned."

Artalise blanched, "P-poisoned?"

The smirk returned to Morrigan's face, "Twas not a deadly potion- there was no attempt on your life. Whomever you were _with_ last night apparently desired for you to not remember that evening." She took in a noticeable sniff, and wrinkled her nose, "As…_laborious_ as it apparently was."

Artalise actually blushed, and as quickly as her mind raced, she was unable to come up with an appropriate answer. She thought back to the sleeping blonde elf, how he hadn't taken anything of value from her...yet he still didn't want her to remember a thing. _I have a bad feeling about this..._ Her lack of verbal response, yet clear desire to think of once, caused Morrigan's smirk to widen.

"But, I shall answer the question asked. Yes, they left. There was actually quite the…argument between yourself and Alistair. 'Twas the highlight of my evening, in fact as 'twas_ much_ worse than what was said at the Brother's house."

Artalise absently twirled a strand of her red hair as she tried to remember something…_anything_…but came up with nothing.

"Morrigan…what did I _do_?" she pleaded with the older woman.

"You said you needed a drink. I said I could make you a tea to calm your nerves, but you _insisted_ that you needed to drink something _stronger_. As soon as they left you went down to drink. I care not for such things, and so," she shrugged nonchalantly, "This is the first time I've seen you since you left."

Artalise looked at Morrigan in disbelief, "You…don't sound like you were very concerned."

Morrigan shrugged again before nodding her head towards Oak, "Your hound followed you. In truth, I was glad to have an evening free of the stink of the animal.

Oak let out a little yip and wagged his tail, clearly not perturbed in the slightest over the insult. Morrigan rolled her eyes.

It was the first time, really, that Artalise realized just how strong of a bond there was between a mabari and their master. She made a mental note to stop by a butcher shop and get him some juicy bones in thanks.

She glanced back over at Leliana's bed and shook her head slowly, "They really did leave, huh?" she asked, more rhetorically than desiring a repeat of an answer from Morrigan. Alistair had really left her. She was now the only Grey Warden who was doing something about the Blight.

Morrigan cleared her throat, "I will have you know that Sten and myself believe you are fully in the right. Hopefully those fools will realize that too, before they meet their inevitable deaths."

Artalise smiled in thanks at Morrigan, "I appreciate that." She paused as she went over Morrigan's full statement in her head, before adding in the clarification, "Well, at least the first sentence…"

Morrigan shrugged, unconcerned, "Have you a plan, then?"

"Only that we finish off selling what we have…then perhaps take the southern road to see if we can find the Dalish."

"Tis better than the plan that others have come up with."

Artalise snorted, knowing precisely what Morrigan was talking about.

* * *

~~~V~A~V~~~

* * *

Artalise had just finished up packing up everything into her pack, pleased with how the day's earlier trading had gone when there was an urgent knock on the door. Morrigan and Artalise exchanged a glance, before Artalise walked over to the door, and opened it cautiously; just enough so she could see who was on the other side. Her eyes widened in recognition and she pulled the door open the rest of the way, "Kaitlyn? What are you doing here?"

"Oh, thank the Maker I found you! I was so worried that you would have already been gone…" Kaitlyn said in a rush as she entered the room, shutting the door behind her, much to Artalise's surprise.

"Is there something wrong?" Artalise asked with concern mixed well with curiosity.

Kaitlyn looked over at Morrigan suspiciously for a moment, but then seemed to realize that if Artalise was sharing a room with her, she was trusted, "I…I would like for you to come with me…I-someone really would appreciate your presence."

Artalise brows furrowed together, "_Someone?_"

Kaitlyn shifted her weight nervously, "I…I want to say more…just-well, I will, but you have to at least be out of this building."

"Why?"

"Just….please just trust me, Arta-Arista…" Kaitylin pleaded.

Artalise bit her bottom lip as she contemplated the request, "Will this someone ask something of me?"

"I-I don't know! He may, but you won't have to do anything…he…please…he just wants to talk with you."

Artalise thought about it for a few long moments, with every second passing the look of Kaitlyn's face growing more nervous. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw Artalise nod her head, "Oh good! Please, if you can follow me…"

"Wait – Can I take my friends?" Artalise asked before taking a step towards the door. Kaitlyn had already reached for the handle, though she snaked her hand back in surprise as she turned to look at Artalise, and shook her head resolutely, "N-No…I think he wants to speak to you alone…Maybe, though, you could bring the other…one of your…order?"

Artalise snorted, "Then it shall be me alone."

Oak let out a yip beside her, causing her to look down with a grin, "Well, myself plus Oak. Surely whoever this man is won't mind the presence of a mabari?" Kaitlyn shook her head, and opened the door, clearly eager to be out of the room.

Before she exited the room, Artalise looked back at Morrigan, "If you could ready the cart? Let's plan on leaving as soon as I return- Maker-wiling this won't take long."

"Maker-willing, indeed," Morrigan quipped as she watched the door close behind Artalise and Kaitlyn.

* * *

~~~V~A~V~~~

* * *

By the time Kaitlyn opened the grungy door in the dark alley somewhere near the docks of Denerim, Artalise had already tried to think of various escape plans, should this have turned out to be some gigantic subterfuge. After learning from Morrigan that she had been drugged last night…she was feeling a little less trusting, even with someone as nice and easy-to-read as Kaitlyn was. Part of it was due to the fact that despite her statement that she would explain more once they were outside, Kaitlyn had been surprisingly tightlipped. Artalise took in a deep breath as she followed Kaitlyn into the unknown room and ended up squinting a little as her eyes had to get use to the darkness of the it.

"Ah. So you were actually able to convince her to come out, Kaitlyn? I am impressed."

Kaitlyn blushed as she walked over to a middle-aged man who was sitting behind a roughly hewn table and gave him a small peck on the check before walking over to a counter and busying herself with some such chore. Behind the man that had spoken there were two decently armed men - clearly he was someone of import. The man pushed himself away from the table and got up to walk over where Artalise stood eyeing him suspiciously. Oak flattened his ears in warning, but for now was content merely to watch. However, his tensing muscles indicated that he would be ready to spring into action at the first provocation. The man duly noted this as he bowed in greeting.

"My name is Alec, Kaitlyn's uncle."

Artalise narrowed her eyes, darting between this Alec and Kaitlyn, who was contentedly cutting up some vegetables.

"Where is Bevin?"

Alec smiled, "He is out with some of his friends. Have no fear, he is well." He then cleared his throat, "No doubt you are curious why Kaitlyn was sent to bring you here?"

Artalise nodded her head curtly, to which Alec responded by extending his arms to a chair on the opposite side of the table where he had been sitting, "Please, if you would have a seat."

She set herself into the chair and watched Alec do the same, resting both his forearms on the table, as if tired, "Kaitlyn, could you ready us some tea?"

Kaitlyn walked over to the fire and hung a metal teakettle over the flames, and Artalise's eyes followed her until the man called Alec cleared his throat, intentionally drawing her attention back to him, "So…where to begin…" He muttered to himself.

"I've always been told the beginning is nice." Artalise quipped as she crossed her arms.

Alec snorted, "Aye. But sometimes it is difficult to know where the beginning _actually_ starts." He sighed and rubbed his head, "Well, let me state that I am originally from Highever. Do you know of it?"

"Of it, yes. Beyond that I know only that a Teyrn of Ferelden lives there."

Alec's face grew dark and he exchanged glances with the men behind him before looking back towards Artalise, "_Lived_ is more accurate. You haven't heard the news then?"

Artalise bit her lip as she tried to remember if she had heard anything in particular about Highever. Suddenly, her mind latched onto a bit of gossip she had overheard while in Denerim's marketplace, "I heard something about there being an uprising or something…lots of bloodshed."

"More like a betrayal than an uprising. Arl Howe, Teyrn, no _Regent_ Loghain's most trusted adviser, attacked Highever as soon as the Teyrn's son led the bulk of their forces down south to fight with the King. Said it had to be done because Teyrn Cousland was working with the _Orlesians._ The brutality of the killing of the occupants of the castle though…" he sucked in his breath and shook his head, "My sister was one of those who were forced to clean up the mess. She came back scarred from what she had seen. Others felt the same way. The Teyrn was a good man – we all respected him and he treated us well. My family owes him a debt for a favor he once gave us…he…he didn't deserve this. No one in the castle deserved this…" He pounded his fist on the table before looking back up at Artalise, "And now we have a way to help avenge the Teyrn."

Artalise had been listening carefully to this, wishing that she had paid more attention to the little political news that had come to the Tower. She had thought it pointless for an apprentice to keep track of politics of a world she thought she would never see. How her path had changed so much!

"You…you have found a way?" Artalise asked, before smiling up in thanks as Kaitlyn placed a cup of tea in front of her. Kaitlyn flashed her the smallest smile for placing the other cup in front of her uncle and hurrying back to her counter.

Alec pushed himself away from the table and started to pace up and down the length of the room, clearly agitated, "Yes…we had heard a rumor that the Teyrn's daughter had been kept alive. Couldn't confirm it though. After Ostagar happened and the old Arl of Denerim was declared dead, Howe claimed that title and moved into his estates. He fired all the guards and old house staff, citing loyalty issues, but my friend's son who was working as a guard under the old Arl said he saw _her_ being dragged to one of the cells down there as he was collecting his final pay. He recognized her from seeing her during a visit with us some years ago. Smart lad, he."

Artalise nodded her head and took a sip of tea, still wondering where this was all leading.

Alec stopped pacing and sat down in the seat again, rubbing his chin as if he was pondering how to proceed, "See, Kaitlyn here told me what you are."

"She did, hmm?"

Alec nodded, "Not only a Grey Warden, but a mage to boot," He said the first part quietly, but he raised his voice as he continued, "Right now my men are too few and ahhh…not skilled in any fashion to save her."

Artalise started to blink rapidly, and she narrowed her eyes at Alec as she finally thought she knew what he wanted, "Are…are you asking me to save this girl?"

"I am asking the Grey Wardens to, yes."

"The Grey Wardens do not involve themselves in petty politics." Artalise stated, remembering a conversation she had with Duncan on the subject; and with First Enchanter Irving, in fact.

Alec rubbed his nose in agitation, before forcing a smile, "But you see, _Grey Warden_, this is not for mere politics. Saving her will help you face the Blight."

She waved a hand for him to continue, "Go on." She stated doubtfully as she then crossed her arms and leaned back in the chair.

"Surely you have heard the rumors Loghain's men have spread?" when he received a bitter chuckle and a nod as his answer, he continued, "He blames the Grey Wardens as being agents of the Orlesians. And while many nobles follow him, believing that it is towards him that the wind blows, others are not too sure. But-"

"How do you know this?" She broke in, skeptically.

He grinned wolfishly, "It amazing how much information a servant can overhear…and how much they can spill for just a little coin. Plus, when you are preparing to lead a resistance, you kind of have a way of making connections…"

The easiness with which he said the last sentence bemused Artalise a great deal, but she let it show only in the smallest crack of a smile. She again waved him on to continue.

"These nobles don't know the true story of Howe's treachery. Maker knows they won't believe it if a servant or commoner like myself were to say anything…but if one of their own was to stand up and tell them what Arl Howe did to herself and her family? What the right hand man of Loghain did? It might very well change some opinions."

She could see where he was going, and she bobbed her head in understanding. Still, she wanted to hear him carry his idea through, "And so?"

"And so, if you can turn some opinions, if you can get some of the banns to throw their support behind you, you will have their armies to call on. More men to fight the darkspawn. Plus, " he grinned, "I will have what few men I have pledge themselves to your cause."

Artalise bit her bottom lip as she contemplated things over, "What is this girl's name?"

"Devona."

"And this Devona would do this?"

Alec nodded resolutely, "Beyond a shadow of a doubt. If I thought otherwise, I would not be doing this."

Artalise tapped the table for a few long moments as Alec watched on anxiously. When the tapping stopped she finally looked back up at Alec with a frown on her face.

"I…right now we do not have the…_capacity_ to help you." She held up a hand to stop his protests, "Listen, Alec, I agree with what you say. I _want _to help you. But right now, I don't think we will be able to. The fact that Devona is still alive must mean that Howe still has a use for her then, right?"

"It makes me sick to think of what _use _that is." Alec practically spat on the ground, not even bothering to hide the disgust he felt for her decision.

"But it could keep her alive for a little while more?"

"Perhaps. I can't imagine Howe plans on keeping her alive for much longer though. He _must _realize what a dangerous game he plays to keep the daughter of a Teyrn alive!"

Artalise frowned and shook her head, before holding out a hand towards Alec with four fingers extended, "Right now we number four people; two mages, a qunari, and a mabari. Do you really think we can risk our lives saving one woman, when there are still other treaties to fulfill?"

"Treaties?"

Artalise paused a moment, cursing herself for being so careless with her talk. But, considering all that he had told her, perhaps it was only fair that she reciprocate, "The elves, mages and dwarves of Ferelden all signed a treaty with the Grey Wardens long ago to assist them in fighting the Blight. So far we have only contacted the Circle." She explained.

"The Circle has agreed to help you?"

She nodded.

"But now you seek the Dalish and the aid of Orzammar?"

Again, a nod.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, the anger disappearing from his eyes as he pondered further her situation, "I know of someone who may help you with Orzammar. He was apparently made into a "surfacer" or whatever, and only recently arrived in Denerim.

"Is he…part of your group?"

Alec scoffed and shook his head, "Oh no. Said he had no taste to get involved in politics ever again. He did agree to do some trading with us though. Just not at a discount." He chuckled softly, most likely at the memory of the conversation.

"His name?"

"Gorim. One of the few, if not _the_ only dwarf in the market district near your inn. Should be real easy to find."

"Thank you." She said as she rose up from the table, "I'll go back and talk to my companions and see how they feel about rescuing Devona…and if they agree to it, or if I think of a way I can do it later on, I will let you know."

Alec nodded curtly, "I thank you for at least considering it. My men and I will do what we can. Perhaps we will succeed before you even return."

Artalise returned the nod tilting to her head to the side in contemplation, "Perhaps."

* * *

~~~V~A~V~~~

* * *

Morrigan and Sten were waiting at one of the tables inside the Tavern right near the door, both looking as if they desired to be elsewhere. Sten had an empty plate with what looked like cookie crumbs on it, and Morrigan had an empty teacup in front of her. She looked almost happy when she saw Artalise and Oak walk in through the door.

"So. Did it go well?" Morrigan asked as Artalise and Oak approached the table.

Artalise sighed and shrugged her head, "I don't suppose either of you feel like raiding a dungeon to free a damsel in distress would you?"

Of course she already knew the answer.

"I do hope you are joking." Morrigan stated dryly. Sten didn't even bother giving her an answer. Or even look at her. _Typical_.

"I thought not." Artalise then jerked her head towards the door, "There's a merchant I would like to stop by on our way out. Is the cart ready Morrigan?"

Morrigan nodded her head as she slid off the bench, "Tis. They await us at the stable," she answered crisply. Sten grunted a little as his standing up required a bit more uncomfortable maneuvering. The Gnawed Noble Tavern did not, apparently, expect qunari to be frequent guests.

* * *

~~~V~A~V~~~

* * *

"_Who _is it that you wanted to meet again?"

"A dwarf named Gorim."

Sten, whose height allowed him to actually see over the dense crowd of human heads suddenly jutted his chin out to the left of him and took off in that directly, jostling not a few indignant humans, whom wisely decided to keep their complaints to themselves when they saw who, or rather _what_ had pushed them.

"''Twould seem as if Sten has found him."

"Indeed" Artalise responded as she tried to weave her way through the crowd much less successfully. Unlike a gigantic qunari, humans didn't mind shoving around an elf. Especially one dressed like a servant like she was. She couldn't wait for the day when she could walk these streets in her full mage robes wielding her staff…._If that day ever comes, _ she reminded herself pragmatically. Her only solace was that Oak pressed closely to her side, and with him, at least, the humans seemed less likely to shove. Or kick.

When they finally arrived at the place where Sten had stopped, it was clear _something_ had occurred. Sten grasped a large helmet in his hand, and stared threateningly at a surprised, but remarkably enough, not unnerved dwarven merchant, who had his hands raised up in innocence as he watched Sten with an eye that betrayed a warrior's training. The growing crowd around the stall was whispering loudly and pointing at the qunari. If the situation wasn't resolved quickly, there would be no doubt that the guards would be called. If they hadn't been already.

Artalise started to curse silently as she realized that she couldn't really do anything without inciting curiosity and suspicion. Not with all the commotion Sten was causing…She looked at Morrigan and pleaded silently with the woman to do something. Morrigan wrinkled her lips up, clearly not wanting to do anything, but realized the necessity of doing so when the qunari reached back to grab the hilt of his sword.

"What goes here?" She practically shouted out as she took a few steps in the direction of Sten and the dwarf, her voice easily cutting through the whispers of crowd. Both Sten and the dwarf turned their heads to look at her.

Sten's lips practically turned up into a snarl, "This creature has my armor."

Morrigan arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms, "Oh? And here I thought you were _wearing _ your armor." The retort drew no few amount of snickers from the crowd. Unfortunately it did little to stem Sten's building rage.

"Not this flimsy human-crafted armor," He said as walked over to Morrigan and practically shoved the metal helmet into her face, "This is armor my people made for me. It is _my_ armor. No living being should have it but I."

"Yet the dwarf had it." Morrigan stated dryly before looking over at the merchant, her hands moving in a motion that indicated that it was his turn to speak.

It was all he needed, "By the ancestors, I swear I had no idea who this helmet belonged to…I bought it off a merchant near Orzammar…He didn't tell me where he had got it…" The dwarf exclaimed, his eyes darting between Morrigan and Sten to watch their reactions.

This caught Sten's attention and he turned to face the dwarf, "Did this man have a sword as well?"

"He had lots of swords."

"Was one of them qunari made?"

"I have never seen a qunari weapon…"

"It's make is unrecognizable in this country."

The merchant rubbed his chin as he thought back, "No…No, most of his swords were dwarven made. A few human made swords, but all of it easily identifiable. Swords sell faster than armor though- it's possible it was gone by the time I arrived."

As the tone of conversation lowered to the volume of normal conversation, the crowd started to break away, Artalise rolling her eyes at some of the comments of disappointment that there had been no bloodshed.

The dwarf was clearly relieved that the crowd had decided to move on, and he turned to look at Sten with an understanding look in his eyes, "Look, whoever you are. I understand the bond you may have with your armor, however it was that you lost it. I'll sell you the helmet at the price I bought it – fifty silver."

Morrigan and Artalise exchanged a look. That was a hefty portion of their profits.

"40 silver. And I promise the qunari won't bash your head in." Morrigan stated firmly.

The dwarf snorted, "I suppose ten silver is a worthy price to pay for keeping my head."

As Morrigan opened up her pouch and started to count out the silvers, Artalise finally decided to speak up, "You wouldn't happen to be Gorim, would you?"

He turned his attention from the sight of flashing silver and looked over at Artalise with no small amount of suspicion, "Aye. That's my name."

Artalise smiled slightly, trying to indicate she meant no harm, "I was told by…somebody…that you recently came from Orzammar?"

The smile didn't work, and in fact the wariness in his face only deepened, "I did. But I don't see how that concerns a surfacer like yourself."

"I..we plan on going to Orzammar sometime soon. It was rather implied that the situation was not good…" In fact, that hadn't been implied at all, but seeing as how he didn't seem willing to talk to her, his reaction should help her judge what the state of affairs was like. Seeing how things had gone so far with the treaties, she assumed they weren't good.

And apparently she had assumed correctly by the snort of amusement that came from Gorim, "Hah! You could say that again!" It almost sounded like he was going to continue, but he then realized who he was talking to and his expression instantly changed to being emotionless again, "Look – I really hope you weren't planning on actually doing any trading with the city itself. I doubt anyone would even be able to get in."

Artalise bit her lip, pondering whether or not to divulge the fact that she had a treaty. She was unsure of the dwarf's loyalties…but then again, Alec had said that Gorim hadn't wanted to concern himself with politics. Hopefully that meant he didn't care about what had happened at Ostagar either. Artalise closed the distance between the two of them, and looked down at the now curious Gorim, "Would they allow a Grey Warden in who has a treaty demanding the aid from dwarves in times of Blight?" she asked in a hushed, but hurried voice, her eyes trained on Gorim's face to watch for his reaction.

He looked taken aback, and his brows furrowed as he tried to comprehend what Artalise had just told him, "You…you are a Grey Warden? Do you know then, a man called Duncan?"

Artalise eyes widened in shock at that name, and while too surprised to answer, she nodded her head, causing the dwarf to break out into a grin and he clapped his hands together once.

"By the Stone! That is good news. Perhaps…perhaps _you _could save her then…" He said as his eyes glazed over, his thoughts taking him elsewhere.

It took all her willpower to suppress a groan._ Another__ damsel in distress? When did the Grey Wardens become everyone's knights in shining armor_?

Gorim almost seemed giddy, "This must be the work of the ancestors…Please, your friend can have the helmet free of charge. All I will ask is that you join me for a drink. There is….much, so much, to tell you."

Morrigan sighed loudly from behind Artalise, and she heard the sound of many coins sliding back into a pouch.

* * *

~~~V~A~V~~~

* * *

_A.N. Thanks for reading! Feel free to let me know what you liked or didn't like! Its *uber* easy to review and makes my day a little bit brighter. XD_

_A.N. Don't worry, I'll be getting to Ali's and Leli's adventure soon enough..._


	26. Chapter 22:  Gaining Trust

_A.N. Cheers to Arsinoe de Blassenville and jackkel dragon for their kind reviews! Also, just have to give a shout out to somebody from Sweden who apparently marathoned through my story last Sundayish(hopefully it was somewhat interesting!) Also - a shout out to someone in Germany and Netherlands who both seemed to read through good portions of my tale last Sunday as well. I hope, again, that you didn't consider it a complete waste of time!_

_A.N. As as aside, I've started up a companion series to ACTD called...Always Comes the Spring. In the previous chapter I introduced the name of Devona Cousland - ACTS is her story. As a warning chapter 2 is ah...graphic and disturbing, and chapter 3, once I get around to posting it will be unpleasant as well...but it'll get better from there. Every author needs to have at least one CousCous story, right? Mines just going to be more...messed up than usual. _

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* * *

_

~~~V~A~V~~~

* * *

They agreed to meet up in an hour at a tavern called the Iron Hammer located down a maze of alleys off the main street of Denerim's marketplace. Artalise had tried to memorize the directions she was given as best she could, but eventually Gorim had realized that she was lost and just told her to ask any dwarves in the area where it was. Artalise, Sten, and Morrigan had needed to go to the stables where their ox and cart waited for them and pay a small fee for their delayed departure, while Gorim needed to track down his apprentice to take over for his stall an hour or so.

After returning from the stables to the marketplace, Artalise and Morrigan together were at least able to remember enough of Gorim's directions to get them to a distinctly dwarven section of town. While wood had been the preferred building material of choice in the other sections of the city they had visited, the further they went along the side street Gorim had directed them to take, the dominant material became stone. The architecture was something to behold and entirely unique and dwarven in style, especially the lack of windows, and the few windows present were usually covered by huge awnings in order to allow light to come in, but prevent as much of the sky as possible from being seen.

The three of them had been silent for most of the journey. Finally, Artalise cleared her throat and glanced upwards at towering qunari, "This is the second time that you've asked about your sword." She stated as an observation, but clearly wanting him to expand on it.

They walked a few more strides before she finally received a typically Sten-like answer, "Yes."

Artalise rolled her eyes, annoyed but not surprised by his answer, "Well, are you happy to have your helmet back?"

"I would have preferred my sword."

"Why?"

"Ask only questions you actually want an answer to."

"I _want_ to know" Artalise insisted.

"Mmm," was Sten's only answer for a few moments, until they finally turned a corner onto a side street that Gorim had told them to take, "It was made especially for me."

"I thought you said your armor was made especially for you?"

"It's not the same thing." Sten said, clearly annoyed at answering the question.

"Why?"

Another few steps before his reluctant answer, "Armor comes and goes. It was made for me so it fit me. So it would not hamper my movements – but my sword…It is the tool I have trained in, it is an extension of myself. Without it, I am not whole. Without it, I am not qunari."

"Oh," was all she could think of to say. She had thought that perhaps it was a family heirloom, or some other type of emotional tie. But to have it be a tie to one's sense of self? Without it, being nothing? She shook her head to herself as she finally realized how little she knew about the qunari.

Thankfully, they only had to ask one friendly looking dwarf where the Iron Hammer was, who pointed them down the next street and told them to keep an eye out for the sign. He also gave a friendly warning to Sten that he might find the seating a bit short. Sten had not been amused.

When they finally arrived at the Tavern, Artalise tilted her head to the side and grinned. While other buildings had their doorway at street-level, The Iron Hammer had a stairway leading downward at least a full floor into the ground, with an ornately carved doorway located in a covered recess. The angular carvings was unlike anything she had ever seen before – so unlike the graceful curves that human architecture preferred. Even more intriguing was the fact that there were no windows- the building was one giant block, made out of smooth stone. It was beautiful in its simplicity..

Artalise was broken out of her reverie by a sharp shove of a dwarf who was apparently too eager to enter the Tavern, or too rude to mutter an apology. It was strong enough that she stumbled back a few steps, and only Sten's solid presence kept her upright. She shot the dwarf a glare before she followed him down the stairs, Oak by her side. Morrigan and Sten following reluctantly.

A blast of heat rushed out at her when she opened the door, as did the sound of jovial laughter and chatter in a language she couldn't understand, but was unmistakably dwarven. Apparently non-dwarfs didn't often come here as the tavern grew quiet the moment she stepped into the dimly lit room, and the silence only grew deeper once Morrigan and especially Sten ducked into the room. Thankfully for Sten the ceiling was several dwarf-lengths tall, and gave the qunari easy clearance into room.

The room itself was large and open, giving Artalise the distinct feeling of being in a cave. Unlike in the Gnawed Noble Tavern, the only wood evident in the Iron Hammer was the wood of the barrels of beer. There was a long stone table behind which huge casks of beer were stored, kept there for easy access for the busy servers. Four huge ornately carved columns helped bear the weight of the ceiling, and surrounding each angular column were four sets of ornately carved benches. More stone benches, all of them filled with sociable dwarves, were placed along the four walls of the tavern. Between the walls there were several long, and low, even for an elf, stone tables, tables surrounded by high-backed stone chairs, each occupied by a dwarf with a mug in their hand. Artalise did a quick glance at a the plentiful hanging braziers, having noticed they were all lit, but curious as to how the room was not black with smoke. Indeed, the braziers flickered with smokeless flame. She hazarded a guess that whatever was burning in them was the cause of the slightly musky scent underlying the usual smells of a busy tavern.

A voice to the right of them suddenly shouted something out, and instantly the noise roared back to life as the dwarves resumed their conversations. Moments later, Gorim came walking up to them and waved his hands towards the back of the tavern, "Welcome, my friends! Please, follow me."

Artalise smiled weakly and lightly petted Oak's head before she followed Gorim, finding it a challenge to keep track of the man's red haired head. It didn't help that to her, it was difficult to tell most of the dwarven men apart.

The head she was following stopped at one of the larger, and for Sten undoubetly, the higher tables. She was relieved when he turned around to see that it was indeed Gorim, and scooted onto the long bench. Morrigan slid in beside her, but Sten merely looked at the size of the gap between bench and table with doubt. Before anything was said though, Gorim had noticed the qunari's hesitation and yelled out at a passing younger looking dwarf, who scurried away. Quicker than Artalise would have expected, he was back and with sturdy looking wooden stool. It would be the only object, besides the casks of beer, that was made of wood in the tavern, and was clearly on hand for the rare occasion a non-dwarf made his way into the building. Before the boy left, Gorim grabbed his arm and said something to him before sending him scurrying away again.

"You had no trouble finding this place?" Gorim asked pleasantly as he sat down on the bench across from the two mages.

"Not at all."

"Good, good. I know Dwarf Town can be confusing to you cloudheads."

Morrigan smirked to herself before an uneasy silence descended onto the group, broken only when the young dwarf from before returned this time with a tray laden with 4 mugs of beer and a thick thigh bone. The tray clattered on the table as the server set it down before he rushed off to see to his next table.

"Ah, good! And don't worry – 'Bought you some of the beer you'd find here in Denerim. Dwarven beer…mm…is an acquired taste." Gorim said with a smile before grabbing his mug and taking a long gulp before setting it down with a satisfying smacking of lips, "Really brings me back home."

"Home being Orzammar." Artalise clarified gently as she reached for her mug, while also nudging Morrigan ever so gently. The human mage glared at her as if asking _What?_, to which Artalise answered by darting her eyes over to the mug. She didn't want to seem rude, after all, by having Morrigan refusing the drink Gorim had bought. Sten was drinking his just fine.

_No._ answered Morrigan with a look.

_Yes, _repeated Artalise with a more obvious glancing at the mug.

_No._

_Yes!_ Artalise asked, or rather _demanded_ a final time, throwing a sharp jab in Morrigan's direction. The woman scoffed before reluctantly wrapping her fingers around the mug and bringing the mug to her lips for the briefest of moments before setting it back down just as full as it was before. Artalise rolled her eyes and was about to continue, when Gorim suddenly cleared his throat, unsure if he should continue while the two women fought. Artalise blushed slightly at her childish display, quickly taking a sip of her beer to cover up her embarrassment.

She heard a whine coming from underneath the table, and it took a moment for Artalise to realize what he wanted. Her eyes alighted on the bone on the tray, and she grinned to herself as she grabbed it and quickly tossed it down below the table to Oak, who took it eagerly.

"Erm, yes. Orzammar." Gorim started hesitantly, though when he saw that he had their full attention again, he started to speak more confidently "I was the second to the King Endrin's only daughter, and second child, Ilda Aeducan." He glanced at them, "But I doubt you know what that means?" He looked at the others at the table expectantly, but then sighed as they shook their heads, realizing that there was either going to be a lot of simplifying or a lot of explaining. "Being a second means different things to different people – to her, I was her right hand, a friend and advisor. King Endrin had ruled Orzammar since before I was born. He was a good ruler, but everyone knew he would be returning to the Stone soon enough. He had three children – an older son named Trian, and a younger son named Bhelen," He scowled as he said that name, clearly hating the man, "Trian assumed he was the heir, being the oldest, but even he wasn't ignorant of the rumors circulating about my Lady – that she was the one the Assembly had their eyes on."

He then flung his hands above his head, clearly agitated, "And how could they not? She was the best of House Aeducan – the arm of a warrior and the mind of a Queen! For Stone's sake, she won the Proving held in her own honor! I can't remember the last time that happened!" Eventually, Gorim realized who he was talking too, taking in the blank looks around him – the group had no idea about the intricacies and history of dwarven culture, and so he cut more to the point, "Anyways, the night before my Lady is to go on her first expedition for Orzammar in the Deep Roads, Bhelen," he muttered something darkly in dwarvish, " told her that Trian was going to move against her. She heard him out, of course, though she played the loving sister card and feigned disbelief that her older brother would do such a thing. My lady knew something was up, however…and when she returned from her successful expedition to find Trian _dead_, it was confirmed. Thank the Stone she had the sense to not approach the body – nor let me confirm that he was dead. We were covered in the black ichor of darkspawn blood and were standing a good distance away when the King's Entourage, led by Bhelen," again stating what Artalise assumed was a curse against that name, "accused my Lady of killing her brother. So set aside by grief was her father that he would not even listen to my Lady's attempts to make him see reason." He shook his head sadly, and finished off the last of his mug, "My Lady admired Bhelen for his skill – she realized that she had underestimated him, and told me she was actually relieved to be sent to the Deep Roads, so she wouldn't have to live with the shame of having been bested by her younger brother."

Artalise nodded her head when she realized that he was finished, before pursing her lips and trying to think of a way to phrase what she wanted to say, but ended up giving up, "And I take it this Lady Aeducan is the one you want us to save?"

Gorim nodded his head curtly, "Aye. As a Grey Warden you'll have easy access to the Deep Roads."

"As a Grey Warden I have a policy of staying out of politics."

Gorim was taken aback by this response – clearly he had been expecting her to fall all over herself in eagerness to help save a dwarf princess, but he soon recovered, "If you are going to be wanting dwarven aid, you are going to _have_ to get yourself involved in politics."

"What does that mean?" Artalise inquired, folding her arms and placing them on the table.

Gorim, meanwhile crossed his arms and leaned back in his bench, "I just received word that the King has died- and the successor is in doubt." He said with a snort.

"Bhelen still lives, does he not?." She asked with an arched eyebrow.

Gorim nodded his head, "Aye, he does, may the Stone forsake him. But Lord Harrowmont, trusted adviser to the past King still lives as well, and he has stated that the King wished to see anyone but Bhelen on the throne."

"Why do you not insist that I support Harrowmont then? Why would you have me go inside the Deep Roads to search for a woman who could be dead?"

Gorim's face darkened at the implications of her last sentence, "Lady Aeducan still lives. Of this I am sure. Beyond that, it is not _your_ support that will sway the Assembly. To do that, you'd need to go into the Deep Roads as well."

"What do you mean by that?"

Before answering Gorim waved down a waitress and said something to her gruffly. As she walked to the back, he turned his attention to Artalise.

"The next ruler will undoubtedly have to be chosen by a Paragon-" he held his hand up to stop her request for an explanation, "who is someone that all dwarves aspire too, in live and in death, a living legend. There is only one Paragon that still, possibly exists…and she is somewhere in the Deep Roads now."

"Why in the Deep Roads?"

Gorim eyed her and arched his eyebrow, "Does it matter to you?"

"I am merely curious." She stated simply, but with a shrug.

He heaved a sigh, but decided to answer anyways, "She is Paragon Branka…she left to go to the Deep Roads two years ago in order to find the Anvil of the Void. What we dwarves used to make golems." He stopped there, knowing what effect that would have on his audience. He was not disappointed as Artalise's eyes went wide, and Morrigan sucked in her breath, "Aye, a noble cause. And one that she probably failed in, but we have to hope that somehow the Stone has seen fit to keep her alive."

"How do you know all this, dwarf?" Morrigan suddenly cut in, her voice rife with skepticism.

"I was Lady Aeducan's second. Even on the surface, it gets me some respect. Especially because she had often spoken of bringing us surfacers back into Orzammar's fold."

"But why do you still care? Why do you focus on the past when you have your future to look to?" Morrigan questioned further, clearly letting out some pent-up frustration over what she felt was the ridiculousness of his request. Artalise had traveled long enough by the woman's side to read at least that much from her.

The arrival of another mug of beer broke the tension that had descended upon the table, at least for the long seconds it took Gorim to drink from his glass, before setting it up with a loud _thump_, and glaring at the woman before focusing his attention on Artalise. He apparently had decided to dismiss Morrigan's comment, "Before I left for the surface, King Endrin called me into his room…'Find her' was all he said to me. I, myself, cannot do it. I have, however, been trying to find someone who can." He finished with a note of expectancy.

"And you think you have." Artalise stated, keeping her tone neutral.

"Haven't I?"

Artalise looked up at the ceiling, trying to collect her thoughts as she felt three pairs of expectant eyes on her. Thankfully Oak was too busy gnawing on his bone to have paid attention to the conversation.

"You have not told me what I should care about who is the ruler of Orzammar. Why does your Lady Aeducan deserve to have the Grey Wardens search for her?"

"If the Grey Wardens want what is best for Orzammar, they will choose her."

She let out a sigh before closing her eyes and rubbing her temple. A headache was definitely in her near future, "_Why_ would your Lady still be alive again?"

"She would have found the Legion of the Dead."

"Mmmhmm." Once more, she had no idea what Gorim was talking about, but by this time her mind was spinning from all that she had been told. She doubted her brain could handle another explanation, "Listen, Gorim. I appreciate you telling us all this, I do, but-"

"Will you save her?"

"-but I don't know if I can help you."

"You don't believe me?"

"No, not that it at all. It's just…It is a lot to take in, " she finished lamely. Granted, her statement was partially true. It would probably take her at least a day to rehash all that he had told them into a narrative that made some sense to her. But a part of her also rebelled against all this information freely given from a man she had just met earlier today. _What's his angle?_

He looked at her closely, and she knew he didn't really believe her, but he merely nodded his head before reaching into a pack he had brought with him and drawing out two sealed letters. He handed them over to her, and she took them, but her perplexed expression begged the question, _what are these?_

He gave her the answer, "One letter is from the King himself – the seal you see is the royal Aeducan crest. I would have you give this to her if you find my Lady Aeducan. The second is a letter I have written for you that should help you gain the trust of Lord Harrowmont. The seal is my own. When you go to Orzammar, it should help convince you of the truth of what I have said today."

* * *

~~~V~A~V~~~

* * *

"So, do you think that what the dwarf said was true?" Morrigan asked, breaking the silence that had fallen over the group as soon as they had left Denerim. They were taking the North road – to Orzammar, and had been traveling for near two hours.

Artalise shrugged and smiled wryly, "To be honest? I have no idea. All I know is that I am incredibly happy to be out of Denerim- I don't think I could've handled one more twist to trying to get the treaties done, or one more request for aid. Though, I must admit that I hope what he said wasn't true, and his information was bad. That we'll be able to go to Orzammar and be welcomed by a ruler who will quickly and easily agree to send us the aid the treaty requires."

"But you do not expect it?"

This time she snorted, "The way it's been going so far? It's like the Archdemon chose Ferelden because of how much chaos it knew was going to happen within its borders."

Morrigan nodded her head contemplatively, "Tis said the Archdemons are corrupted Old Gods, after all. Such prescience would not be an impossibility."

Artalise was about to answer when she was interrupted by a woman's cry, "Help! You there, please help us!" The urgency in her voice was apparent.

The Grey Warden stopped the ox, whom she had decided to name Buttercup, and watched as the woman came running up to them from a small side path, "What seems to be the matter?" Artalise asked.

"Th-the darkspawn! They have attacked us! Please, we need your help!"

"Your party is under attack _right_ now?" Something about this woman put her off. By the rumble deep in Oak's throat, she could tell he felt the same way.

"Yes!" The woman answered, and Artalise thought she heard the faintest tone of impatience interwoven with her apparent distress.

"Nearby?" asked Morrigan skeptically.

"Y-yes!"

"Then _where_ are the sounds of battle? The darkspawn are ferocious howlers." Morrigan quipped, crossing her arms over her chest.

For the merest of seconds, the woman's face actually went blank – like she had been caught off-guard by the comment - but she quickly covered it up by starting to cry, "Oh- it might mean it is too late then! My son! My poor, son…" The weeping intensified.

Artalise and Morrigan exchanged glances. Behind them, Sten observed quietly, "The woman's actions are peculiar. Her mouth says one thing, but her eyes another."

_Good! We are in agreement, then._ Artalise plastered an apologetic look on her face and spread her arms wide while shrugging her shoulders, "I am sorry to hear of your loss, good woman. But we are just poor merchants…what help would we be against the darkspawn? We would be nothing but fodder for them…"

A quick flash of anger alighted on the woman's face before she resumed her loud weeping as she ran back down the small wooded path.

Artalise turned to look at her other companions, "I don't trust her," she said while biting her lip, "I...think I would like to check out this 'attack', if you two wouldn't mind stopping for a little bit."

Sten shrugged - and by the fact that he didn't condemn the decision right away bode well for him actually _agreeing _with it. Morrigan arched an eyebrow, "And how do you propose to do that? The one member of our party who was decent at scouting has left."

Artalise grinned crookedly, "Who would notice a couple of ravens?"

Morrigan snorted, "Indeed!"

* * *

~~~V~A~V~~~

* * *

They walked back to a clearing they had passed earlier in the day. After tying Buttercup to a tree, Artalise and Morrigan went to the forest line and stripped down before they shapeshifted into ravens. It had been a while since Artalise had performed such a spell, and as such it took her a few moments longer to get the transformation complete. Oak let out a whine and a small bark, clearly distressed at losing his mistress's scent – this was the first time she had shapeshifted since Oak found them – but a stern look from Sten shut him up as the qunari went back to sharpening his sword.

It was not difficult to find the woman's "friends". The path she had run down was relatively short, though its distinctive feature was a sharp bend that the path followed in between two small hills. There was around ten armed men who now walked tensely either on the hills or around a broken cart and slaughtered ox, clearly there to have convinced them, Artalise and her companions, that a group of innocents had indeed been attacked- until they realized too late that it was an ambush.

As Morrigan and Artalise circled overhead, Artalise suddenly focused on a blonde elf- not only because he was the only elf in that particular group, but because she recognized the simple tattoo he had on his face. He was the man she had woken up next too. It was a realization that stuck her hard enough that she almost fell from the sky. Flapping her wings wildly to regain her balance, she then squawked loudly to Morrigan and turned to head back to camp.

Artalise nearly tumbled to the ground in her haste to feel solid earth beneath her again, her body shaking as she transformed back into her normal shape. As she was pulling her mage robes over her head, she heard a light _thump_ on the ground beside her, indicating that Morrigan was back as well.

"What happened back there?" Morrigan asked.

Artalise threaded her arms through the long yellow sleeves of her robe before she pulled her head out of the robe, "I-I knew one of the men back there."

"Oh?" Morrigan inquired as she reached down to tighten her skirt.

Artalise just nodded, and was thankful when Morrigan had the surprising graciousness to not inquire any more, although more likely she had already guessed some of the details. When they were both fully clothed, and both relieved to be in their clothing of choice rather than the plain clothing they had worn for their disguises sake, they walked back into the clearing where Sten had been sharpening his sword.

They decided on a quick strategy. Morrigan had noted that the men on the hills were archers – and incredibly deadly to herself and Artalise. She had suggested that the mages would focus their power on destroying the archers first, while Sten and Oak would charge the remaining warriors. Morrigan also stated that she thought that the woman who had tried to get them to follow her was a mage. Artalise directed Oak to try to take her out as quickly as possible, to which he responded with an excited yip and wagged his tail eagerly.

"One thing - I want the blonde elf kept alive." Artalise stated resolutely.

Morrigan merely arched an eyebrow as she made the connection to her previous question. Sten, on the other hand looked at the warden dubiously, "We have no need for a slave."

"Who said anything about being a slave? I want him alive for questioning."

"What questions could he answer?"

Artalise blinked, "Like who sent him…and detailed information about that person….", her excuse sounded weak even to herself.

Sten worked this over in his mind a for a few moments before finally answering gruffly, "I will make no promise, but I will try to do as you ask"

Knowing full well that battle plans often changed once it was actually commenced, they stopped their planning then and proceeded to make their way as quietly, and as quickly, as they could back to where the ambush was suppose to take place. Every moment they wasted increased the possibility of losing the armed men – and thus giving the blonde elf, whoever he was, the upper hand.

Artalise breathed out a quiet sigh of relief when all the men seemed to be still in place. The weeping woman and the blonde elf appeared to be having a heated argument. She couldn't make out what was being said, but could easily detect the anger in their voices. Good. They wouldn't be expecting them.

Morrigan and Artalise exchanged glances and nodded their heads. Artalise looked back at Sten and Oak, the former who nodded his head and the latter who merely wagged his tail. They were ready.

Soon after, a fireball struck the right hill and sent the archers flying backwards. Most wouldn't rise again, while on the left hill a dark cloud formed and sucked the very life out of the archers stationed there. It caught all of the men off guard, causing those remaining to let out a cry as they attempted to locate the mages who had killed some of their comrades.

It was the blonde elf who spotted them first, but before he could point it out to his men, Sten and Oak came charging out of the brush. Sten's war cry and huge form crashing into one of the men, his blade easily slicing through the shocked flesh caused further terror in the camp. The moment that the qunari and mabari exited the shelter of the brush, the woman who had lied to them had begun readying a spell – but she never got a chance to finish it as Oak dodged the swords of the other armed men and launched himself straight at the woman's unprotected throat. She was dead within seconds.

Sten raised his sword to go after another man, who was still trying to grab his own weapon out of his scabbard. When he saw Sten's sword erupt into flames, the man's mouth gaped wide – and in the next instant he too was dead.

Soon the only person left standing was the blonde elf, who seemed to find the whole situation amusing- Artalise could see his mouth moving and saw Sten's scowl deepen for an answer as the two circled each other. Artalise felt uneasy about this prospect – the elf's movement were too quick, too fluid. If Sten could actually_ hit_ him, he would undoubtedly crumple to the ground. But by his movement, by how he danced around the qunari, she doubted that would happen.

Oak, who had taken off after a fleeing man, now came trotting back down the path, his brown coat slick with blood. When he noticed Sten and the elf, his ears went back, recognizing the elf's scent immediately. He let out a low growl and charged at the man's back, catching the elf by surprise as he was flung to the ground. His head smacked hard against the packed dirt, and by the way his body went limp they could tell he was unconscious.

Artalise soon woke him up with a small electrical shock applied to a rather delicate region.

* * *

~~~V~A~V~~~

* * *

"You aren't seriously thinking of taking him along with us, are you?" Morrigan asked, clearly in shock that Artalise seemed to be contemplating to do that very thing.

Artalise narrowed her eyes as she looked the elf, Zevran, over as she mulled on all he had told her, as well as his offer, "We aren't exactly in a good position to refuse help."

"He tried to _kill_ us!"

Artalise rolled her eyes, "Oh, really? I hadn't noticed. Here I thought he was inviting us to tea."

The sarcasm was lost on the other woman, "Don't be an idiot" She practically shouted before continuing in an astonished voice, "Here, I _thought_ I had sided with the more reasonable Warden…" Morrigan finished with a sigh.

Artalise jerked her head in Sten's direction, "I saved a murderer didn't I? He's turned out to be pretty loyal."

"Sten didn't try to kill _you_."

"Zevran was just fulfilling a contract. It is Loghain who is trying to kill me." Artalise said with a frown.

Morrigan sighed again, clearly exasperated, "How can you trust him?"

"I can't-" Artalise answered simply. Morrigan gave her a look that practically screamed, _Then what in the Black City are you thinking about? Kill him already!_ "- but I have a way he can prove himself to us."

* * *

~~~V~A~V~~~

* * *

_A.N. Didn't want to riddle the top with too many A.N.'s but...*blows whistle as confetti comes streaming down* Happy 100,000 word mark to me (and you for reading!)! _

_**A.N. As an aside**, its been drawn to my attention that I really should include some Zev dialogue in here...so I will hopefully have an edited scene featuring the dialogue between Zev and Artalise et al posted by **Sundayish night!**_

_A.N. Pardon the massive wall of text while Gorim was talking...I was having some difficulty figuring out how to format it. Two big blocks is better than 1 gigantic one, right? _

_A.N. Any one else annoyed that the game basically forces you to follow the woman Zev sends after you, yammering about being attacked? Maybe some people would immediately help her out...but most of my characters wouldn't. Thank goodness for FF and I can finally explore different options! _

_A.N. - See something you like or don't like? Feel free to let me know! _


	27. Chapter 22A:  Two Mistakes

_A.N. If you missed my addition to the A.N. at the end of the previous chapter, added several hours after it was posted, I noted how it was pointed out to me that there was not enough Zev dialogue…which I had to agree with. Zev dialogue scares me and I took the cheap way out in the previous chapter…but the comment rung true, so here's the mentioned Zev dialogue….it is from his perspective during the "interrogation" scene that I had so conveniently skipped over in my last chapter…and it is actually long enough so I didn't feel bad making this its own chapter!_

_A.N. Mega-appreciations to Arsinoe de Blassenville and jackkel dragon for their reviews. And to everyone who actually appreciates my take on the Blight timeline (or likes to read my story to laugh at how ridiculous (but not ridiculously awesome) it is... XD)_

_A.N. OMG how humiliating. Huge typo in this story...hahaha..ha...ha Its fixed_

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~~~V~Z~V~~~

* * *

"Braska!" escaped from his lips as he felt electricity racing through his nether regions. It was just a _little_ too much for him to consider it pleasurable. But his body reacted to it anyways. While his head ached from the force of it slamming against the ground, it was good to know that at least a part of him derived some pleasure from his situation.

"Who are you?" came her voice. The sweet voice of the Grey Warden- his prey who turned out to be predator, and a very able one at that.

With a slight groan he rolled over onto his back and opened his eyes, to see three pairs staring back at him. He couldn't help but be amused, however, when those three pairs of eyes noticed how the electricity had affected him. A pity that the only look on their face was shock, and not the good kind at that. _Clearly_, this was no dream of his.

"Oh? Is this not the Fade? I would have thought having two beautiful women and a man who I'm sure has the largest….ahh…_hands_ I've ever seen, all staring down at me, would make this a fantasy. I am not used to such attention." _Charm never hurt a situation_.

"There's a mabari here too." His one-time bedmate stated wryly, as her bright green eyes stared down at them – and he could see by the flicker of recognition that she had realized who he was- and what had transpired between them. It was unfortunate that he had had to give her a concoction that had caused her to forget all the blissful details of the evening.- though when he felt her awaken, he wished he had given her a strong sleeping draught as well . He hadn't even finished his brief nap to recover his strength when she got out of the bed. He had then hoped she would just dart out of the room in embarrassment. Disappointment didn't even begin to cover how he felt when he had heard her walk to his side of the bed to apparently stare at him…and even more distressing to leave him a such a paltry sum of coins! The whole evening had been his first mistake – he had definitely misjudged her, to his detriment. .

"Oh?" He rolled his head up in the direction the elf had looked and saw a mabari who let out a growl as soon as he saw the assassin focusing on him. "Ah, I see! Well, he is a very _handsome_ dog too."

The hound then let out a pleading whine as he looked up at the elf, who had difficulty concealing her smile. _This is_ _good. At least one does not seem intent on killing me- even though she has more reason than the others to want my death. Ah well - A caval donato non si guarda in bocca. _

The dark haired goddess of a woman shifted her weight , betraying her growing restlessness, "Tell us who you are, elf, and who sent you."

"So…this is to be an interrogation? I would hate to see such beautiful hands become marred if you were to torture me…so let me save you all some time. It is the least I can do for you saving my life, no?" And….no response. _Tough Crowd. Hmm-might as well continue, _"My name is Zevran. My friends call me Zev, and I would be honored if you all who saved my life would do so, please, " He said with a winning smile, "As for who I am exactly, well- I am a Crow," he paused to see if that caused any recognition. His Order was, after all, famous…or more accurately, _infamous_. Surprisingly he got no response, "- from Antiva?" yet again- no reaction. In a way he had to admit he was actually rather disappointed, "Ah. Well, then I have the pleasure of informing you that the Antivan Crows is considered the best...hmm…how to put it…Order of assassins in all of Thedas. Up until today I have never heard of a failure. Congratulations on this feat! I admit I am very impressed." He finished with well-faked enthusiasm as he spread his arms wide in celebration.

"And who sent you?, " questioned the amber-eyed, and now that his eyes could focus better, the incredibly evocatively dressed woman. _Oh, the things I could do to her…_ In the meantime, however, he was pleased to see that the lovely elf had brought her hand to her mouth and was coughing, her eyes laughing in the way her mouth wanted to. Which he had to admit, he was also a little bit surprised to see. Most women, when they recognized him after he'd…ahh…_enjoyed_ a last night with them were less than happy to see him with a dagger poised straight at their heart. Perhaps because it was she who had sprung a successful trap, and now he was the one who was begging for his life...A sharp jab of the man's sword broke him reluctantly out of his reverie and he struggled to remember the question.

"Let me see if I can remember- Oh, how silly of me! How could I forget that nose? The Maker clearly did not like his mother. I believe his name was Howe, who hired me on behalf of a rather sullen man called Loghain. I had the impression that he was rather important."

"So…you do not know who Loghain is?" The red-haired mage asked, her interest seemingly piqued.

He shrugged his shoulders, "The only politics I care about is that of my Antiva. As it were, I just so happened to be in the neighborhood when the contract on your fine Order came out. And the only one to bid on it too, come to think of it. Apparently I had missed the memo on foolish it was to try to kill the Grey Wardens." He paused a moment as he mulled a thought over, before he decided to go ahead with it, "If I may…I remember there being a handsome human man with you, and I was under the impression that he was a Grey Warden too?" It was more than an impression – he knew it was so. In fact, he had been having an argument with Brina, his now dead hired apostate, about that very subject when they had attacked him. He had been most upset when she had told him about the party's loss of a Grey Warden, in part because he realized it was failure on his part – and he didn't like making mistakes, especially a second one on the same mark, as they caused situations like the one he was currently in. _If I ever see mi passero again- it will be _most unfortunate_ for him. _

The elf actually looked like she was going to give an answer when the apparently _perpetually_ angry human mage broke in, "It is us asking the questions, Crow. Pay heed, and remember that." _ She should really work on that anger issue. It detracts so much from her delectable beauty…._

"Ah, in truth, I doubt I am a Crow anymore. They don't take too kindly to failure, or so I've been told."

This time the elf woman was able to speak without being interrupted, "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, you see," he said as he put his hands behind his head, relaxing. He might as well enjoy his last few minutes of life if they truly intended to kill him, "the Crows, they will given you everything you need in life – beer, wine, women, men- whatever your heart desires. Unfortunately, they expect success every time. One failure, and you are no longer considered a Crow- and the only way one leaves the Crows is through death. It's complete _garbage_ if you ask me. Everybody make mistakes on occasion, you know? But, in truth, you didn't ask , so-"

"See?" the woman broke in, "We would merely be following the rules of his order if we were to kill him now. Perhaps they will even thank us." _Ah. So the amber-eyed lovely wields sarcasm as well. My condolences to the man who actually tries to seduce her. Such an appealing package that is full of sharp knives just waiting to slice into-Wait- kill?_

"Ah, since you have let me prattle on so long, may I beg for just a few moments more." He said in a rush, pleased when the elf woman nodded curtly as her companions sneered down at him, obviously more than eager to send him back to the Fade, this time permanently, "You see, I actually would like to make you an offer."

"An offer? No! Absol-"

"Morrigan, please _shut up_."

_Such interesting group dynamics! _"Well, since you are down at least one companion of yours, I imagine you are in need of more manpower, yes? And while I will not put myself in the same category of a warrior as accomplished as I am sure he is-was," he wasn't able to tell if the man's departure was permanent or not- better to play it safe, "I can assure you that I am no slouch in combat. Who needs a suit of armor when one can attack first from the shadows, no? No offense, of course, to your incredibly large and well-armored friend," he stated smoothly as he looked up at the man whom he guessed was qunari. The large and well-armored friend's answer came in the form of a sharp jab of a sword tip against his stomach. Zevran noted that in the future to remember that he had even less a sense of humor than Morrigan. _ If I have a future lasting longer than a few more moments, of course..._

By the look on her face, the Grey Warden did not seem impressed with his initial list of abilities, so he rushed to continue his resume, of sorts, "I am also skilled the art of poison…and should you have a need for someone who needs assassinating- well, I would more than happy to volunteer for such a job. Not to mention the fact that you will now be watched by my fellow Crows, and they could possibly try something a bit more sophisticated than my incredibly _shoddy _attempt. Should that happen, it would be useful to have someone versed in their craft, no?" something he had said clearly registered with her, as evidenced by a small glint in her eyes. A small one, but he recognized that she had made her decision, and it was in his favor. While he was tempted to go on about his useful skills, perhaps in this case it would be wiser to stop while he was ahead. He didn't know how well a comment about his bed-warming capabilities would go down…for the time, at least, she was willing to overlook the previous evening. _Yes… Best not to bring it up._

"Morrigan, if you would, follow me for a moment. Sten? If you could please watch him and ensure he doesn't escape?" she asked delicately as she motioned with her head an area several feet away to the woman called Morrigan. _ Such a sinister sounding name too…her mother obviously judged her daughter's personality quite well._

He wished his ears were as good as his eyes so he could hear what was being said. Yet when he saw that Morrigan was growing frustrated, he grinned to himself- but only for the briefest of moments as the another sharp jab of the sword wiped his face clean of any emotion. But he was still pleased.

_This bodes well!_

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~~~V~Z~V~~~

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_A.N. Hope I did Zev some justice! Doing not only Zev dialogue, but trying to get inside his head was a delightful writing challenge that I really am hoping I didn't fail at miserable. As an aside I've decided to just use pure Italian for Antivan – "passero" in Italian means "sparrow" and the phrase "A caval donato non si guarda in bocca" = "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth"_

_A.N. Reviews are always welcomed! Let me know what you liked, or didn't, if you would. Grazie!_


	28. Chapter 23:  The Rescue

_A.N. Many thanks for the reviews of Arsinoe de Blassenville, TanithAeyrs, and jackkel dragon. Also, I am estatic to welcome Gene Dark, Leimana, and striker189 as readers of this tale. Thanks for making my week...and glad to hear some people find this story as interesting as I find getting the ideas for it. XD_

_A.N. There is one lil bit of naughty language...and it is kinda dark in the middle (note: not ACTS dark!) Also, "Antivan" occurs a bit more frequently in this chapter - I have translations at the end. _

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~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

"You trust this man to do this?" Alec asked doubtfully, his rough hand rubbing his chin as he looked the Antivan Crow up and down.

"In truth it is not so much that she tr-" Zevran started to explain before he grunted as an incredibly sharp elbow that could have only from slender Artalise slammed into his side.

"It is not so much that we trust him – but if he decides to try to escape, he knows it will be his death. " Artalise explained simply, eyeing Zevran's glowering expression with no small amount of pleasure. When she noticed Alec's look of curiosity, she decided to indulge the man, if only because she knew it would make Zevran more uncomfortable, "Morrigan," She nodded her head back towards the woman standing near the door, "gave him a potion out of herbs that grow only near the place where she lived – hundreds of miles away. It's a delayed reaction – he has only a day until he would need an antidote. Unless he would like to be _dead_ the day after." She looked triumphantly at the man who had not only poisoned her and slept with her, but ended up actually wanting to kill her. His response of a crooked smile actually took her aback – she was expecting him to be distraught, confused, hating her…_not_ amused!

She didn't seem to realize that he was use to working under such pressure. In fact, he was wondering why the Crows hadn't thought to use such measures like poison in order to strengthen their hold over their own. Knowing that a poison would kill a Crow if a job failed would his dismissal so much easier. Perhaps, if he was to ever to back to Antiva he would ask that dark-haired goddess for her recipe. She would refuse of course, then he would insist, saying he would pay _any_ price, and she would think about it as her lips curved upwards into a seductive smile as she started to shed her clothing, and then-

"Then we must get to work quickly, it seems." Alec noted with a hint of a smile, breaking Zevran out of his brief, but incredibly pleasant, reverie.

* * *

~~~V~Z~V~~~

* * *

Zevran was actually in shock when he realized just how shoddy a job the security was at this estate. Having openings in the ceilings of the dungeons below within easy reach of any passerby was just poor judgment. He knew of acids that would easily cut through the bars, but he had none on him at this particular time. Instead, for tonight, he had something better.

Artalise lowered the hood off her face as she realized that Alec's men had succeeded in what they had said they were going to do- there were no guards outside the doors of the Arl of Denerim's estate tonight. Amazing what rumors of a revolt could do, especially when coupled by a few surprise attacks on the city guards. There would most definitely be death tonight – and Artalise couldn't help but wonder if the woman they were going to save was worth it all.

Zevran lightly touched her shoulder and quickly darted against of the inside walls of the estate and motioned for herself to follow. Even though there was no one within eyesight didn't mean he should throw caution to the wind – movement alongside the wall would be more difficult to notice.

It didn't take them long to reach the barred open windows that Alec had told them were nearest the room where his man had seen the Cousland locked up in. Maker willing, she would still be in that room. Zevran held his hand up to Artalise, keeping her against the wall as he carefully leaned over the barred hole in the ground, trying to not only see, but hear any movement on the floor below. After a few long moments and hearing no movement, Zevran realized that the man had spoken the truth – this opening was in an area of the dungeon not often traversed.

He looked up at Artalise, and then pulled out one of his daggers and showed it to her. As if on cue, he saw the look of concentration draw over her face before his dagger erupted into flames. Grinning he gripped the hilt with two hands and pressed the edge against the thick metal bars. After he sliced through one of it easily, he waved Artalise over and motioned for her to grab the bar he was working on. He felt a rush of cold air wash over him and he saw faint glow of the bar fade to solid black as she made it a temperature she could grasp without burning herself. As his blade finished slicing through the other end, he saw the bar drop slightly, and heard a small gasp from the mage – she had apparently misjudged the weight of the thick metal bar – before she brought it up and placed it beside her.

They made quick work of all the other bars, allowing for the quickest escape possible. Artalise then grabbed one of the bars and walked over to the stone wall while she heated the middle of bar enough so that even she could bend it. Zevran meanwhile lightly brushed his hands over the cracked stone wall, trying to find a hole of suitable size. Eventually, he was able to find one at about knee height were the mortar had fallen away and motioned to her. Together they were able to wedge the bar into the hole, though not as far as they would have liked. As it was, it would be able to hold any sort of weight. A situation that could easily be remedied.

Artalise motioned for Zevran to step away as she bit her lip in concentration. She held her right hand out over the bar and a small blue flame erupted from her hand. Zevran winced from the heat, and didn't understand how she could stand it. The bar started to glow red, then white, but before it started to bend from the weight of holding itself up, she quickly drew her right hand away and brought up her left, a weak stream of frost wrapping itself around the hot metal, cooling it more rapidly than the slightly warm night air would have.

"Never been very good with ice," Zevran could hear her mutter under her breath. When the bar turned back to a solid black color, he gingerly gripped it in a hand and tugged. When it didn't budge, he tugged harder. Still no movement. Which was good- very good.

He took the coil of rope he had slung on his back and tied a knot around the curved end while Artalise leaned against the wall, bent over with her hands placed on her knees as she recovered. She was clearly worn out from the effort. A smile crossed his lips as he lazily flipped a dagger around in his hand- this was about the fifth time tonight he had seen an opportunity to kill the Warden– but the realization that that would be the stupidest thing he could do prevented him from seeing it through. She was the only person, well, besides for Morrigan and Sten, who knew where the other Grey Warden was located- What point was there in completing only one half of his contract if doing so would destroy his chances of finding the other half. Besides that, a half-finished contract was still a failure in the eyes of the Crows- It was still a death sentence. Not to mention the fact that he doubted his ability to dodge the men who had trailed them if he killed her. Artalise hadn't noticed them, of course, but he had. He had done so much trailing in his life, he knew what to look for. _So much distrust in this city…_

No, he would take his chances with this Warden. If a little group of four could take out an expensive group of mercenaries, there would be no doubt that they would give the Crows pause in their mission to _dismiss_ Zevran from their ranks. He did enjoy living, after all.

Without looking back behind him, he dropped the rope into the opening and quietly landed in the damp, dark dungeon hallway. The heavy scent of blood, excrement and fear saturated the air. _Ahh…the sweet smell of the law's justice!_

Keeping his ears pricked for the sound of approaching footsteps he slowly followed the directions Alec had given him in regards to his quarry's cell. He took a right down a side hallway, stopping for the briefest of moments as he heard the voices of at least two men. As he made his way down the hallway, he realized with satisfaction that the voices were coming from the very same room where _she_ was suppose to be located. Good- his blades had been growing thirsty…

He plastered his back to the wall and peered into the room lit solely by one fresh-looking torch. He didn't concern himself too much with the details of the room – one dungeon was very much like another – but instead focused on the occupants. Two guards and, he winced, a mabari. How he hated the mutts of Ferelden!

As if he could hear the assassin's mental curses, the hound turned his head and looked at the doorway. Zevran had already moved his head away, but there was little he could do about his scent.

* * *

~~~V~~~

* * *

The hound growled slightly and started to walk towards the hallway. One of the guards, the mabari's handler, shrugged the behavior off – he'd seen the hound act similarly when a particularly nasty rat would scuttle by. Better the hound go after him now, then find the bastard in the kitchen pantry eating the guards' food. How he hated rats.

"Let him go off – he probably sees a rat. They've been getting more brave, the blighters. And fatter." The mabari handler said to his younger companion with a shrug.

"Aye! Just like week we got called in to clear an infestation of the pantry. Hugest things I've ever seen. And aggressive too!"

"Hey, now – I think I remember hearing about that. Glad I was off during that. Basil got a nasty infection from one of their bites, I think. Caused him to be laid up for a few days!"

"I heard he faked it to get some time off." The man said with a lopsided grin.

The mabari handler grabbed the other guards armor roughly and shook him hard, "Basil is a good friend of mine- I'd not have you insult my friends in such a manner!"

The other man chuckled nervously as he gingerly loosened the handler's hands from his armor, "Oh! I didn't say that what was what _I_ thought- just the local scuttlebutt now, Harry."

Both men ignored the heavy _thump_ from outside in the hallway.

As Harry continued to glare, the other guard decided a change in topic was in course and he waved his hands over toward the cell they were standing in front of, "Oh, come off it Harry – listen, to show you I meant no harm, I'll even give up my honest won first dibs on her."

"As right you should – I know you cheated on that last hand!" Harry accused the other guard, clearly indignant over his loss.

Thankfully, Harry missed the other man's eye roll, "It was an honest win Harry, but please, I insist. " _ Be happy you're higher in rank than me you dumb son of a bitch._

Harry guffawed for a few moments, muttering something along the lines that it was only his due for the _insult_ against his friend (who he actually hated the guts of) and the obvious _cheating_ that had occurred last night (at a game Harry was notorious for losing at) all while loosening his belt.

The other man looked into the cell as the sounds of some shuffling started to come forth. He nodded his heads toward it, "You want some help in keeping her held down, Harry?"

Harry snorted and waved him off, "Nah – I like it when she flails" he said as he loosened the rings of keys from his belt. After trying a couple, he finally found one that opened the lock with a satisfying click and he lumbered into the cell.

He didn't notice his companion suddenly sputter to the ground, clutching his throat as blood spurted out.

Nor was he aware that there was a third person in the cell with him until he felt a dagger lodge itself in his spine.

* * *

~~~V~~~

* * *

The bad thing about the mabari is that they were absolutely ferocious fighters. If they got a man on his back - Zevran shuddered - it was guaranteed to be over for that man. The good thing is that they could be easily swayed to see him as a friend by waving a treat in front of their snouts. Which was precisely what Zevran had done. And a few moments later the hound dropped dead. As soon as Zevran had entered Ferelden, he had ensured that he kept a ready supply of poisoned mabari snacks – and the investment in them had saved his life more than once.

He had then listened onto the conversation between the men, amused, until they revealed why they were outside this particular cell. Which didn't really surprise him –he personally knew what happened within the locked cells of a dungeon- but that didn't stop the rage from making him grip the dagger in his hand tighter, and make him resolve to make their deaths as painful as possible.

True, he was a killer. Men, women, children, he'd kill them all, quickly and efficiently. But he killed only those he'd had a contract on (and the occasional foolish guard who got in his way). It didn't mean he lacked in morals though. And being raised in a whorehouse like he had…he had seen the aftereffects of violent acts against women. The shame, the horror, the depression, the possibility of suicide...he had seen it all. And he had grown up hating the men who had done so. He had taken that with him throughout his training with the Crows – some chose to have their way with their quarry forcibly before they slid their knives into soft flesh. He could never bring himself to do so – especially when his marks could usually be convinced to give in to him so easily with a few seductive remarks. Sure, he would kill them after, but at least they experienced the full bliss of life before departing from it. It seemed only right.

When he peaked into the room again, he saw only the one guard – the other was in the cell laughing and hollering nasty epithets as he tried to bring the woman in cell under his control.

_Continuare a combattere!_ Zevran thought as he closed the gap between himself and the guard, bringing his dagger swiftly around the front as his other hand jerked the man's head back, revealing his jugular for an easy slice across that Zevran relished in taking. As warm blood gushed out, he pushed the man aside and darted towards the partly closed door. Thankful for his thin frame, he slid into the darkness, his nose wrinkling up at the wave of stank that threatened to make his pass out.

He wasn't too late, he noticed with relief – the woman still fought on. So well did she hold the man's attention that he was able to plant a dagger in the man's lower spine easily as his other hand clamped itself over his open mouth, muffling his screams.

"Preparatevi a incontrare il tuo creatore, bastardo" Zevran muttered as he dislodged the dagger from his spine, and moved it to the front, "Dopo che ho estratto da te la tua penitenza, beninteso!" With a quick movement downwards he made Harry a man no longer. It was too much for his victim and Zevran felt the body go limp. Snarling he tossed it aside before he looked at the bound figure lying on the floor, her face away from him. He could see the body was tense, unsure of if he was friend or foe.

Tsking low in his throat he walked over to her and knelt behind her. After wiping his dagger across his already blood splattered clothing, he quickly cut through the ropes that bound her legs, hands and mouth.

She didn't move from her position at all – she didn't try to run away from him, which he considered a sign in his favor. Instead she weakly brought her hands around, gasping as if the movement brought her pain and rubbed her hands together tenderly, like two lovers who had been apart for too long.

"Sei un Corvo?" she asked in a whisper, but in the silence of the dungeon it was as easy to hear as if she had shouted it. Which she might as well have done for how in shock he was to hear his native tongue being uttered from the mouth of a clearly Ferelden born woman. True, it was heavily accented, but easily understood. And more interestingly– she had deduced what he was by merely hearing his mutterings.

"Io ... era un Corvo. Non era i Corvi che mi ha mandato qui." He responded to her after he got over his initial surprise. He was interested to see how much of his beautiful Antivan she knew.

"Chi, allora?"

"I Custodi Grigi"

With that she raised herself up, clearly surprised at his answer. And it was at that moment that he saw what had been done to her in the dungeon – how deep their depravity was. As she turned her head in the direction where she remembered his voice coming from, instead of two eyes looking at him there were two pits of scarred flesh. He was glad she could not see the way he recoiled, but she undoubtedly heard his quick footsteps back and his breath catch in his throat due to his shock. If she did, though, she gave no notice of it.

"The Grey Wardens?" She asked with curiosity, and noticeably in her own native tongue. "Why would they wish to rescue me? How do they even know about me?"

Zevran gulped as he diverted his eyes to the wall in order to stop looking at the damage done to her, "You can ask her yourself once we get out of this dungeon."

She nodded her head, understanding the request that she stop asking questions so they could make their escape, and made an effort to lift herself up before she fell back with a weak cry. The wounded woman made a second attempt, but it had the same results as the first. When she tried for a third time, Zevran couldn't take it anymore and actually bent down and picked the woman up who was little more than skin and bones. He wasn't the strongest of men, but someone who had wasted away as much as she had would prove little challenge to someone even like Artalise.

The woman whimpered slightly in surprise but then merely gripped at his leather armor to steady herself. When he took a step towards the door, she suddenly spoke up, "Wait – are they dead?"

"One is yes. One is…almost."

A dark frown suddenly crossed her cracked lips, "Please. May I?" she entreated.

He knew without her asking specifically, what she wanted, and he gently placed her on the ground near the "man" who was bleeding out. Then he flipped the body over and took off the splint mail shirt, revealing cloth and soft flesh beneath. As he laid the body back next to her, a hand groped out and ran along the length of the man, seeing with her fingers the likes of man who had violated her for so long. She started to chuckle when her hands ran red as she realized Zevran had done what she had already desired to do. Zevran smiled slightly, pleased to give herself a chance to exact her revenge on at least one of her tormentors before he gently took her hand and wrapped it around one of his daggers.

Slowly, she got to her knees and gripped the hilt in both her hands before plunged the blade into the unconscious mans chest, causing a rush of air to leave from his lungs. The amount of force behind the thrust surprised Zevran – he knew from personal experience that puncturing a lung was no easy feat.

Then she plunged it in again. And again. And again.

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

Artalise had started to bite her nails nervously as she watched the dark hallway below, wondering if Zevran had been successful or not, wondering if he had called her bluff and had taken off…

Suddenly she saw a figure down below who let out a soft whistle, in case she was not already aware that he had returned. In the next instant she sent forth a small fireball into the sky, causing it to dissipate not long after it cleared the tall stone wall.

As Zevran tied the woman into some sort of seat he knew how to make with the rope and was telling her to grab a hold of rope tightly, the large form of Sten emerged from the shadows.

"How does Morrigan fare?" Artalise asked fervently as the qunari approached.

"She waits by the cart with the leader of the humans." Sten answered just as briefly. Artalise had to assume that meant that she was safe, if not well. She was curious as to how the staged revolt was going, but thought better of asking Sten for details.

Sten, meanwhile merely walked over to where the opening was and knelt by the opening, one hand on the rope. When a sharp tug finally reached him, he stood up and started to pull the woman up, carefully guiding her up through the opening with the help of Artalise. Something was different about this woman's face she realized, but she was too busy guiding the rest of her body out of the hole to pay it much notice. As Sten lightly placed the woman on the ground near the hole he looked over at Artalise, "What shall you do about the assassin?" he asked, his voice devoid of any indication of what he wanted, but there mere fact he _asked_ such a question said volumes about what he thought the proper recourse of action was. It would be easy to just leave him down there, and have the guards take care of him. Even she could start to hear the shouts emanating from the empty hallways in the dungeon below.

"Guys? You know, a little help?" He called up them, clearly a bit unnerved by the lack of rope being thrown down his way as footsteps drew closer.

"Sten, please throw the rope back down." Artalise said, looking straight back at the qunari. As per usual, he didn't argue, merely letting out a grunt of dissent as he cut the rope from the woman, not bothering to try to untie Zevran's knot, and threw the end back down into the dungeon. As Sten picked the woman up, Zevran emerged from the hole.

"I think we should leave now, yes?" Zevran said as he pulled the rope up quickly and tossed it to the side.

The suggestion wasn't necessary – as soon as his blonde head had appeared over the hole, Artalise and Sten had started to head in the opposite direction, eager to get some distance between themselves and the estate. Zevran wasn't offended by their lack of waiting – he told himself that it was because they knew he could take care of himself. No, instead what brought a small smile to his face as he quickly sprinted to catch up was the fact that _she_ had held true to her word. He was not someone whom they could leave behind – he was now a part of her group, a member and an ally whom they would protect with their lives.

Now if only the qunari would see things that way….

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~

* * *

Alec let out a notable sigh of relief when he saw the group approach – especially when he saw the tell-tale golden hair of the Teyrn's Cousland's daughter. It was matted, dirty and so unlike what he had remembered from a few years ago, but yet recognizable. He turned and grabbed the arm of the man next to him, "Tell the others to draw back! We have her – we've rescued her!" He commanded, but the pride and thrill in his voice couldn't help but make the other man smile broadly as well as he nodded his head curtly before running off.

He watched the man run off before turning and walking towards the rapidly approaching group, though he hadn't taken more than a few steps before he started to frown. The flickering flames from the many various torches that highlighted the small square they were in made it difficult to tell for sure, never mind the fact that the qunari's stride jostled her face in such a fashion that he was unable to focus. But something was most definitely off.

When the giant of a man stopped a few feet away, and the flames and shadows stopped dancing across her face, he finally was able to see what had happened to her. _What have they done to you, milady? _ A cry escaped his lips and he rapidly closed the distance between himself and the woman. He heard the Grey Warden say something, but he didn't understand it. All he could see were the two chasms of puckered burnt flesh were once her enchanting blue eyes had once been.

"M-milady! I am so sorry…we were too late…we let this happen to you…" He said as he knelt onto the ground several strides away from her.

Devona turned her head to look in the direction of his voice before lightly tapping the qunari's shoulder. Understanding the wordless command, he gently placed her down on the group, a rope falling to the wayside. She wobbled a little bit, but her shaking hand soon found the solid form of Sten who steadied her.

"Who are you? I recognize the voice…"

"I am Alec, son of Wilson, brother to Stephan."

She paused before answering, before stating hesitantly, "They were guards at Highever, were they not? How…how do they fare?" The question of course was unneeded- she knew the answer already.

"D-dead, milady. Both run through by Arl Howe's treachery." The grief in his voice turned to sheer hatred by the end of the second sentence. Their faces had been near unrecognizable…

"I am sorry to hear that, Alec. They were good men in m-my father's service." Her voice was strong, almost too strong but then, it was only the façade she had been taught to present to the world since she was but a child. Years of practice had made it strong when she was at her weakest.

Alec got up quickly off the ground to close the distance until he was immediately in front of Devona, who had her ear turned in his direction, hearing his approach. She jerked slightly from surprise when she felt him grab her hand to kiss it before pressing it against his face, allowing her to feel his hot tears of grief and hate as he knelt before her again.

"Milady, I have organized a few men who are still loyal to your father- we are yet a small group, but we will grow – especially once more know that you live…an-and learn of what Howe has done to you." He whispered.

She didn't answer for a moment, as if she was mulling it over before she broke out into a bitter chuckle and smiled, "You are a good, worthy man Alec, and should I ever regain Highever I will reward you for your loyalty. But…how can there be a resistance? Where shall we be stationed? The traitorous bastard will have his troops looking for me by morning, if not already. Have you-"

The Grey Warden actually cleared her throat, causing Devona to stop and look in her direction, "If I could, milady, Redcliffe stands with the Wardens. If you would do the same, Redcliffe will offer you refuge." Artalise proposed hesitantly as when Devona turned to face her, she finally was able to look at what had happened to this once-beautiful, noble woman. _Still beautiful_, she chided herself mentally- this woman's strength to continue standing after all she had been through...it magnificent to behold. Still, it made Artalise's spine shiver at the thought of what this noble's daughter had had to endure.

"I was told it was the Grey Wardens who rescued me? What is their purpose behind such an act?" There was no sound of accusation of treachery in Devona's voice - just the understanding that time was of the essence.

"We stand against the Blight." came the resolute answer.

"And where-where does _Arl Howe_ stand?" His name did not come easily to her lips.

"He stands with Loghain. Against the Grey Wardens." There was a bitterness in Artalise's response that Devona recognized as evidence of a shared hatred of the men who now controlled Ferelden.

Devona paused a moment, an ear tilted to listen to the sounds of men shouting in the distance before she nodded her head curtly, "Then I – no, we, " she corrected herself as she nodded her head in the direction where Alec knelt, still with her hand in his, with a small smile, "shall stand with the Grey Wardens as well"

* * *

~~~V~V~V~~~

* * *

_Continuare a combattere! - Continue to fight!_

_"Preparatevi a incontrare il tuo creatore, bastardo" - Prepare to meet your maker, bastard!_

_"Dopo che ho estratto da te la tua penitenza" After I have extracted your penance, of course!. _

_"Sei un Corvo?" Are you a Crow?_

_"Io ... era un Corvo. Non era i Corvi che mi ha mandato qui." I was a Crow. It was not the Crows who sent me here._

_"Chi, allora?" Who then?_

_"I Custodi Grigi" The Grey Wardens_


	29. Chapter 24:  A Dream Destroyed

_~~~V~3 weeks prior~V~~~_

* * *

They came from the shadows. Dark, deathly, and fouling the air they breathed and corrupting the ground they stepped upon.

His family had been eating a large supper – autumn had always been his most favorite time of year. True he worked just as hard during the spring, but during the harvest season he could eat until his belly was full. He had been waiting desperately for tonight – papa had slaughtered a hog today. It had been a long time since he had pork. There were only so many ways even a talented cook like his mother could make meals out of small game and venison. The arrival of autumn meant their livestock had to be culled – it meant that the arrival of pork and chicken. And bacon. By the Maker how he loved bacon!

Screams suddenly crashed through their small cabin – echoing from his uncle's house. He recognized the shrieks – the shrill, high pitched scream from his cousin Betsy – similar to the sound she made when he would sneak up on her – but this time louder, more desperate; more afraid. The scream from his Aunt Dahlia – he recognized her voice from hearing her yell at her husband's hunting hound as it got into mischief once again. And then Uncle Gorden. His shouts were cut off in the middle, becoming a gurgle, and then silence. His wife's and daughter's howls continued, but grew fainter as long seconds passed. Like they were running away. He hoped they were running away.

His own father had reached for his axe and had run outside, joining the shouts of the other men in the small village, after he entreated with his mother to bar the door. She had done so, then gone over to his newly engaged sister and wrapped her in her arms, kissing her trembling head.

Shadows ran by their one window. The poorly made glass distorted shapes – but he knew how the glass deformed human figures. He also knew from looking at the passing shadows that these were not humans.

He had just reached thirteen years of age a few weeks ago. He was a man, too. Ever since he could remember, he had been told about the importance of family – about the importance of keeping them safe. His father had told him to watch out for his mother and sister, should anything happen to him. He didn't hear the yells of his father outside anymore.

He had argued with his mother, grabbing the knives they used to cut their meat with and entreating her to let him go outside – to protect them out there. But she had refused.

And then the door started to shake. A sickly stench started to waft in through the door and fear lanced through his heart. His mother and sister. He had to protect them.

Unholy howls and grunts echoed throughout the cabin, and he could see the wood bar strain against the outside pressure. Then he saw a crack- and then the wood broke into a shower of splinters.

Darkness swarmed in – but it seemed unconcerned with him, swatting him away in pursuit of the two women. He lay there, crumpled on the floor, and watched his mama, his sis, as corrupted claws muffled their screams of terror. One of the beings of death rapped the side of his mother's head, and she went limp. His sister soon followed.

His hands gripped the hilt of the knife he still held in his hand, and he tested the weight of it, subtlety, trying not to garner to himself attention from the retreating beings. To them he was dead. To them he was useless.

He had been one of the best knife throwers in the village – it had been an art form he had relished in, perfecting how he held a knife, the stance he took, when he would release the knife from his grip. Satinalia was only a month or two away – His father had promised him that if he worked diligently, he would take him to West Hill, where there was a knife throwing contest. The prize was more silver than his father earned in six months. He had been working so hard…

Throwing from a seated position was something he never did – he couldn't get his balance right. But through the glass he saw the long blonde hair of his sister draped over the corrupted being's back. And his eyes alighted on a decaying back exposed in the doorway.

The dagger flew straight and true – lodging itself firmly in the thing's skull. It let out a howl and started to jerk its limbs in random directions before collapsing to the ground. A small squat creature loomed back into the doorway, its soulless eyes suddenly landing on the boy crumpled by the wall, the boy who stared back at it with the same amount of hatred and disgust that it felt for the boy.

His grip around the dagger tightened as the creature lunged forwards at him, its own sword held high. He gulped – the only swords he had ever dealt with were the wooden sticks he and his friends would play templars and bandits with. Dark green eyes focused on the arcing metal as he raised his own dagger to block it. The sharp crack of metal on metal hurt his ears, and the stench of the creature made him want to gag.

Suddenly a clawed hand raked out, slashing him across the chest, and he howled in agony. The thing hissed at him and drew back its own sword. Not, however, before he plunged his dagger into the being's flimsy leather armor and into its chest until the hilt pressed firmly against the rotting leather. Black ichor sprayed out at him, coating his lips and face in the foul liquid. He didn't notice – his sense of taste and smell had disappeared in the heat of battle. Sight was all he cared about.

He pushed the creature backwards, and it tumbled to the ground, coating the dirt floor below its blackness. It hissed at him as it tried to reach for the dagger lodged within it, as its other hand flexed on the hilt of its sword. _Its sword._

It couldn't fight him – it had lost too much of it life's essence. With resolute hands he pulled the sword from the monster's grip – looking down at its dying face. For a moment, it looked like it was smiling at him – like it knew what he was about to do.

He got himself up to his feet, shakily, his own red blood intermixing with the black gore from the creature. Wiping his lips, and smearing the ichor across his cheeks even more, he raised the sword over the creature's neck and plunged the sword through it, the strength of a woodsman enabling it to cut through skin, bone, and sinew and strike the dirt beneath.

He snarled at the creature, before his body surprised him and he stumbled backwards. His world started to spin. He fell – and then his world went black.

* * *

~~~V~_Present_~V~~~

* * *

The first wisps of a new day started to light the edge of the horizon when the group of five came across a clearing deemed safe enough for a few hours rest. They had left Denerim soon after they had regrouped at Alec's urging- he had known the safest place for the Lady Cousland was anywhere but Denerim. After pledging to meet up with her at Redcliffe, he had darted away to provide a final diversion for the small group to leave the city. And they had – with surprising little resistance.

Adrenaline from their daring rescue could only last so long, however, and almost immediately after they had left the city gates of the city and the darkness of the Imperial highway overtook them their eyes started to drift downwards. More than once the others were jerked awake by the scuffling of a misstep followed by mumbled cursing. The only one who seemed unfazed by the long evening was Sten – even Oak's head drifted downwards from time to time. Eventually the hound gave up and leapt into the wagon beside Devona.

Artalise hadn't seen the hound jump onto the back of the cart – and at first she had silently panicked when she looked around and saw her mabari nowhere in sight. The orb of light she had called brightened as she peered harder into the shadows of the trees. When she saw naught there, she turned and looked around at her companions – perhaps he was loping beside one of them. Still nothing.

Her constant darting glances had caught Zevran's attention, and he had eventually asked her what she had lost to cause such a worried expression across such a pretty face. After she told him, an amused grin danced across his lips and he had merely nodded his head toward the back of the cart.

Curiosity now creasing her brow instead of worry, she walked tentatively over to the cart and looked into the back. A small gasp escaped her as she looked at the scene in front of her and a hand went instinctively to her heart. Oak was sitting as far back in the cart as possible, given that it was partly full of supplies that the Arlessa had asked they purchase in Denerim, as well as t small group's possessions. Devona still had one arm draped across the hound's back, but the rest of her had fallen to the floor of the wagon, her mouth slightly gaped open in sleep. Matted blonde hair cloaked the rest of her face like a dirty shroud.

That had happened hours ago – though Oak and Devona were still sleeping as the cart lumbered over the rough ground to middle of the clearing. It wasn't until the cart came to a complete stop that Artalise saw Oak leap out of the cart, and after stretching pad off into the woods, more than likely to hunt for his breakfast.

Morrigan and Sten easily returned to the well-known routine of getting a camp set up. Sten hadn't even waited for Artalise to halt the ox before he reached into the wooden cart to retrieve an ax. By the time the Artalise had unhooked the ox from the wagon and had tied him to a tree near the edge of the clearing, the sounds of his chopping of wood resounded throughout the camp. Morrigan, meanwhile, had wandered off into the woods in pursuit of any herbs or food that could provide a splash of flavor to their small meal. While the cheese they had bought in Denerim would last for days – the bread would be stale by the morrow. At least for this trip they would have cheese and crackers to save them from constant meals of stew . Morrigan was quite skilled in finding various herbs that added unique splashes of flavor to the dishes (some tastier than others, of course), but there were only so many different ways to cook rabbits or squirrels over a campfire. Now being free from the responsibility of leading migrants to Denerim, perhaps they would stop by the small villages and fewer towns that dotted the Imperial Highway – but it would be a few days before they would do so. They were still too close to Loghain's center of control for them to feel secure.

Artalise walked over to the cart as she waved the confused-looking Zevran over to her, "Ever set up a tent before?" she asked as he quickly approached her, pleased that she was going to give him something to do. He didn't like feeling useless.

"In truth, no. If we Crows must travel we prefer to stay in inns." He shrugged with a sly grin.

Artalise arched an eyebrow as she tossed him a pole she had just picked up from cart's side. He caught it, _Of course he has good reflexes!_ though he was obviously a bit surprised by that action.

She had debated whether or not to set up the tents – after all, they would only be here for a couple of hours – just long enough to ensure they wouldn't collapse from exhaustion the road. But the bugs! The time it took for her to set up the tents would be worth it to cut down on the amount of bites she would have to deal with when she awoke.

"No better time to learn the present, hmm?" She stated as she reached down to grab a handful of stakes, dropping them to her side on the ground before attempting to pull out the thick cotton cloth. It was heavier than she expected – Sten was usually the one who at least unloaded the tent materials. If he decided to go chop up some wood, it would fall to Alistair to assemble the tents, though Artalise and Leliana would help where they could. It was a bitter reminder of what had happened in Denerim.

Zevran was by her side in an instant, and reached down to grab the heavy cloth himself, "Oh! Ummm…thanks, " she stated as she stepped back to give him more room, and a better angle at which to grasp the tent. He finally managed to lift it up with a slight grunt as it then pounded down on his right shoulder. Turning, he looked at her with an arched eyebrow, asking wordlessly where she wanted it place. Artalise bit her lip before pointing in a random direction away from the cart.

Zevran did not look impressed with her lack of direction, but he managed a bow, though raising himself back up was clearly harder than lowering part, "As you wish," he stated with unnecessary flourish before walking away. Artalise merely rolled her eyes and let out a snort as she reached down to pick up the stakes and pole.

"Is there something I can do to help?"

Artalise jerked up and saw the eyeless face of the Cousland peering down at her from off the cart. As much as she hated herself for it, a shiver of repulsion traveled down her spine. Even the horror of Ostagar didn't come close to the inciting the mix of emotions every time she saw what had been done to this, by all accounts, innocent woman.

"I…well…no – I don't think there is anything you can do…." Artalise answered, stumbling over her words, and thankful that the other woman couldn't see the flush reddening her face nor the way her eyes focused on the trees behind her, and then growing even _more_ embarrassed for being thankful for such a thing.

Devona merely nodded her head, causing Artalise to wonder if she knew what Artalise was thinking, what her reaction was. She probably did. But it didn't seem to faze her, "Do you have a dagger then?"

Artalise's brows furrowed at this request, wondering what it could be for, before she turned and called out to her fellow elf, "Zevran, do you have a dagger?"

She didn't get an answer until he had plopped the thick cloth down with an _oof!_ After straightening out his back, he leaned forward once more and reached into his boot before pulling out a small, but lethal looking knife. He held it up to her expectantly.

She nodded her head, "Yes. Please bring it – AHH!" she screamed out and jumped away from the dagger that now wobbled in the wood of the cart. Flashing anger, she turned her eyes towards Zevran, "What in the Maker's name was that for?"

He shrugged, unperturbed. In the meantime, she shook her head in disbelief that he would actually pull such a stunt, a stunt that could easily be misconstrued as an attempt on her life. As she heard his approaching footsteps she turned and gave a yank on the dagger. She had thought it would come loose relatively quickly but instead it held tight. Grumbling to herself, she gripped the tiny hilt with both her hands and pulled again – this time it came loose, but much more easily than she expected. She fell back a few steps, her arms swinging wildly, which in turn caused Zevran to dart out of the way to avoid a stray slash from his own boot dagger.

While she regained her balance, he made a tsking sound as he bent down to pick up all the other tent materials she had dropped to the ground before he walked away. She glared after him, not so much in anger, but using it as a façade to conceal her embarrassment.

"He threw the dagger to you?" Artalise suddenly looked up in surprise, having completely forgotten _why_ she wanted the dagger in the first place until Devona had spoken up. The human woman had her ear tilted towards them, clearly trying to understand what had just happened.

"Yes. The bastard."

"He is the one from Antiva?"

Artalise nodded her head slowly, before she realized that her silent response would be lost to the other woman, "Y-yes, he is," she stated hurriedly, bringing her hand up to her forehead and lightly hitting her forehead _trying_ to get it to sink in that Devona was blind, "Oh – and here is the dagger you asked for. C-could I ask what it is for?" She asked hesitantly before she extended the dagger all the way out to the other woman. Apprentices in the Tower had often used daggers on themselves during times of great stress – like preparing to undergo the Harrowing. _Though if anyone was to see my own wrists and forearms they would probably think I did the same thing, _she thought as she her eyes were unconsciously drawn to her robed arms, thankful the sleeves were so long.

Devona chuckled darkly before she brought one hand alongside her head and lightly tugged on some tangled strands of her hair, "My hair still stinks of…that place. I wish to be rid of it."

Artalise's mouth rounded to an 'o' and flipped the dagger around so she was holding it by the blade. She reached up and lightly pressed it into the woman's open hand. Her fingers wrapped around the hilt and brought it to the front of her. Her other hand lightly ran along the edge of the blade, and Artalise assumed the other woman was testing the sharpness of it. The Grey Warden couldn't help but get the feeling that this wasn't the first time Devona had dealt with a dagger- there was a definite air of familiarity with how easily she handled it.

"Hello? I thought I was going to receive some private tutelage on how to set up this tent?" Zevran suddenly called out from behind her. When she turned to look at him, he had his arms folded and was looking at her most impatiently.

She glanced back at Devona, unsure if she should stay to help the woman out, but the other woman seemed content to take care of her hair herself, as she already started to saw though a small handful of her matted locks, her revulsion evident in the way her lips curled up.

"What is she doing that held your interest so?" Zevran asked as she walked up where he had thrown the spikes, robe, and canvas. With a sigh she walked past him and grabbed the pole and walked a few feet away from the scattered tent materials. Using what little strength she had she drove the bottom part of the pole into the grass, hoping to give it some sense of stability. By the way it still wobbled, she probably didn't even get it an inch into the dirt. Frowning slightly, she looked up at the watching elf and nodded her head towards to pole.

He arched an eyebrow, "Oh? We are playing the no-talking game? This should be a most unusual lesson then," he quipped as he walked over to where she stood, and after another extravagant bow, gently took the pole from her grasp and attempted to drive the pole further into the ground. When he stepped away, he looked at her triumphantly when the pole actually still stood up. All he got for an answer was a wave of arms that he took to mean that he should continue to hold onto the pole.

"You know, I've heard in Orlais about these street performers who act out whole scenes without saying a word. It is apparently quite fun to watch. Is that what you are trying to do? If so, I must tell you your performance could use a bit more _flair_."

Artalise snorted as she walked over to him with the tent in her hands. She stopped a few feet in front of him and glared at him, which in turn merely caused the arch in his eyebrow to grow higher. Thankfully she was spared from looking at him further by tossing the tent over him.

"Oh-ho! Now this, this is a bit more amusing. Is this part of the tent assembly process, or are you merely telling me to be quiet?" He stated, his voice muffled slightly from the cloth draping over him. She didn't respond to him for a few minutes as she attempted to fit the pole in the small slit in the canvas. Eventually she was able to find it and slid it through before placing the small cap at the pole's end. It was suppose to perform the dual purpose of not only keeping the canvas from sliding off, but also to prevent rain from entering in via the slit. Artalise could attest from personal experience that while it performed the first task well enough, it was a complete and utter failure in the second.

"As much as I enjoy being in the dark, I am afraid if you actually want me to learn how to help with the tents, I will have to be on the outside, rather than the inside."

"Just wait! I need to get at least two, preferably three stakes in before the center-pole will be stable enough." She said gruffly as she grabbed one of the ropes attached to the tent and pulled it out as far as it could go. A foot or so away from where the tent extended to she placed a stake, using another of the metal stakes as a makeshift hammer to pound it into the ground. Thankfully, the ground here was soft enough for even her to hammer in the stake. With a grunt she then looped the rope around the stake as tightly as she could manage before tying it off in the knot Sten had taught her.

"Ah! You have no idea how it warms my heart to hear the sweet song of your voice again, my dear Warden."

Artalise didn't answer until she had tied off the second stake, "I'm not _your_ dear Warden."

"Ah, but you are somebody's then."

"No," She replied curtly as she pulled tight the third rope and knotted it off, "You may come out and help with the rest now."

Zevran did so, though it took him a few moment of fumbling around in the dark before he found the opening. He then looked over Artalise's shoulder as she tied the fourth stake down, "Did I do something to offend you?" His voice actually sounded earnest.

She glanced back at him, noticing his expression was as concerned as he had sounded. Letting out a sigh, she walked over to the fifth rope and waved him over to the other side to have him tied a rope down on that side, "When you threw the dagger. It…it seemed to come terribly close to hitting me."

"Oh? I assure you, you were most definitely safe."

"It didn't feel that way."

"It was not my intention to kill, nor even frighten you."

"What was it then?"

"Ahh…you sounded like you wanted the dagger quickly. I throw much faster than I walk."

"But you still walked back over to me, after." A grunt, and then the sixth stake was done. One more to go.

"Well…perhaps I wanted to show off a little too. I am a little embarrassed that you accepted me into your ranks without seeing what I can do. Personally."

"Hmm. Well, you are apparently skilled in the arts of seduction." She winced and instantly regretted saying what she had.

Zevran did not however – in fact he seemed amused, "That is true. But, correct me if I wrong, but those are not the skills you intend to utilize?" he hesitated a moment, before continuing, more than likely for the added emphasis, "Or do you?"

She could just imagine the wicked smile on his face- thankfully hidden from her by the tent, "You assumed correctly." She replied curtly.

"Ah…pity," He sounded like he was going to continue that sentence, but he appeared to think better of it, "Since you are speaking to me again, may I ask you a question?"

Artalise watched the far edge of the tent jerk as Zevran tied down the final rope, "You may."

"It concerns the poison that is currently flowing through my veins, killing me as we speak? Yes, well, I was wondering if I have earned the antidote promised to me."

She blinked a few moments, confused, until she remembered what had occurred only a few hours ago. A giggle bubbled up, surprising her as much as it Zevran, who walked around the edge of the tent, clearly perplexed at her reaction, "I wasn't aware that poison was so entertaining."

Artalise wiped a tear of laughter away and concentrated on calming herself. It took her a couple of breaths to do so, all whilst Zevran watched with growing impatience, "I-We…Hold on!" She took a few more breaths as she tried to regain control of her breathing before shaking her head, amused at her own reaction, "There is no poison. It was some harmless herbal concoction that Morrigan came up with. We made it up to give you added incentive to follow through." She gave Zevran a wicked grin.

He merely nodded his head a couple of times, though Artalise could practically see the gears in his mind whirring away, before he too smiled, "I am impressed, " He brought a hand to her chin and looked her over with no small amount of skepticism, " Are you sure you were born a Ferelden through and through? There is no Antivan or Orlesian in your blood?"

That question stopped all her mirth. She could remember brief glimpses of a childhood outside the Circle's walls – but she, like most of her mage friends, attempted to forget about their real parents. Their parents, their family was the Circle. For all she knew she _could_ have had Anitvan or Orlesian in her blood. _Do my parents still think of me, I wonder?_

Zevran realized his mistake, albeit too late. The damage had been done – old wounds reopened. He rubbed his hands together and cleared his throat to say something when he stopped and looked at Artalise curiously when she started to laugh to herself.

"What brings you such mirth, if I may, Warden?"

Artalise smiled wrly as she combed, or at least tried to comb through her hair with a hand. She ended up looking at her hand in disgust, and belatedly wished Leliana was still here, if only for the fact that her hair seemed to be more manageable with the minstrel around. With a sigh she then looked up to the sky of dawn, "The only _blood_ I know I have in me is elvish…and darkspawn," she bit her lip and then asked, more to herself than to Zevran, "I wonder, does that make me a blood sister to the darkspawn then? Are we family, in a way?"

"If so, I really would advise you working on your family dynamics. This whole blood feud thing you have going on is really is not a proper way to settle things."

"Hmm…" was all she could say as she nibbled at her lip, disturbed at this idea that had wormed its way into her mind, and now refused to let her go. _What are the darkspawn? What are the Grey Wardens? _

Zevran cleared his throat again, and seeing no change in Artalise's behavior, he said what he had wanted to say before, again because he desired to change the subject to something that did not disturb the elven mage so. Worry was indeed such an ugly feature on such a pretty face, "So – how many tents will we be setting up toni-this morning?"

In the end, they set up only one more tent – the last one being a little bit larger in order to fit the three woman comfortably enough. Sten returned and placed the few logs he had chopped up into the hole that Oak had so happily dug. With one small fireball, the flames lit up the logs. Artalise had wondered if a fire was necessary, as dawn was just breaking over the horizon, but as she stood still a small, chilly breeze reminded her that autumn was fast approaching – _What was the month? Harvestmere? I can't even remember anymore…_

The four of them then sat around the fire, breaking their fast with the long awaited for bread and cheese before they drew straws to see what order the guard shifts were going to occur.

* * *

~~~V~A~V~~~

* * *

"The King is dead?"

"Yes." Artalise, even though she knew that the other woman had been locked up in a dungeon for several months, couldn't help but be a little surprised that the news hadn't filtered down to her, even in the form of a conversation between guards, that the King had died. Even more surprising was that it had taken a week of travel for her to finally ask about what had occurred during her long imprisonment. Before today, she had seemed content to just ride silently in the cart, and no one in the party begrudged her that time to allow herself to come to grips with all that had happened. Even in the tent in the evenings, she had been quiet. Artalise hadn't really minded, as it gave her time to finally study the book of elvish given to her by Enchanter Leorah.

"He is dead." Devona stated again, apparently to herself as it came barely above a whisper. A few minutes passed, and Artalise occupied herself by watching the shadows of the forest until the noble woman spoke once more, "Then who rules Ferelden now?"

"Loghain rules as Regent. There are whispers of having his daughter take the throne." Artalise answered, after thinking back through all the rumors she had heard while at Denerim. Merchants were chockfull of gossip!

The woman riding in the wagon scoffed, "Ah, Anora as sole Queen then? She must be thrilled at the prospect!" she nodded to herself as she thought it over a small smile coming to her lips, "Too bad I doubt the Banns will never tolerate such a thing. Or at least in the numbers she requires for approval at a Landsmeet."

"Why do you say that?"

Devona's smile didn't abate as she brought a hand up to scratch at her much shortened hair, "The Mac Tirs are of commoner blood. They have no history and they've made fewer allies. Though," her smile widened, "I have heard that Anora has made great strides to that effect. But, there is still the fact that she is childless. It is only through Theirin blood that her claim to the throne would be secured from opposition." Devona's voice drifted off, and Artalise got the distinct impression that the woman was musing to herself, "There will be a civil war, I think. The Banns will disapprove of this action done by Loghain without first asking for their permission. He shows his disdain for our system by such an action, I think."

"Civil war?" was all Artalise could grasp as she tried to wrap her mind around the political situation. Devona seemed to have a better understanding of what was going on than herself – and the lady had been locked up in a dungeon for months. Not for the first time, she wished she had paid more attention to the history lessons in the Circle. She remembered being told about the Couslands…but for the life of her she couldn't remember what it had been about.

"Hasn't it? Is not Arl Eamon against Anora taking the throne? He was always the staunchest of the traditionalists."

"Arl Eamon is…rather indisposed at the moment." Artalise said weakly, feeling herself getting lost in the political intrigue.

Devona, on the other hand, seemed to be getting stronger – like she actually relished all this talk about civil war, banns, and Landsmeets "Is he now? I imagined he would be plotting a way for himself to take over as King. I daresay he could find the political backing to do so. With his sister having been queen – it would give him a strong claim to the throne. Add that to his family history, and I believe it would resonate more strongly with the other Banns than Anora's claim."

"How would…a son of King Maric's rate? A bastard son, but a son nonetheless." Artalise suggested hesitantly as she narrowly missed tripping over a rock.

Devona tilted her head and frowned as she tapped a finger against her lips, "There had been numerous claims against King Maric by power-hungry women, all claiming they had the King's bastard child. All have been proven false."

"Let's say this one…isn't," Indeed, while she hadn't seen King Cailan for very long, he and Alistair _did_ share an eerie resemblance to each other.

"I take it this is not some theoretical exercise?"

"No."

A pause, "…Interesting, " Devona opened her mouth to say something more, but the sound of metal being unsheathed silenced her.

Artalise quickly ran up to where Sten was, in front of the group, and looked down the road. It took her a moment to see what had caused his reaction and she almost told Sten to put his sword away, "It looks like a boy-" she then gasped as her she looked at the creature a bit longer. Yes, at one point it had been a boy- but now?

"'but 'tis not one, anymore." Morrigan drawled as she walked up alongside the two, her eyes narrowed as she focused on the creature in the distance, "'Twould be best to put it out of its misery."

"But it looks human!" Artalise protested, even as she watched as the, _What is it? Boy? Monster?_ – shamble towards them, its head lolling to the side. Blackness streaked his arms – the closer he drew the clearer she could see the hollowness in his eyes. Human he had been. But not anymore, that much was clear, "What has happened to him? Can we do anything to save him?" She cried out and looked over at Morrigan, whose own face was expressionless as she too watched the creature make its way towards them. It seemed to try to be saying something, but none could understand it through its gurgling.

"'Tis beyond all healing. The taint rages through its body, uncontrolled. If you wish to show it mercy, Warden, you must kill it."

Artalise bit her lip in thought, before she looked over at Morrigan entreatingly, "But I know no spells that can kill instantly. I do not wish for him to suffer…"

Morrigan arched an eyebrow then nodded her head briefly in understanding before a dark cloud started to swirl around her. In one instant, the creature had fallen to the ground – like its strength had been sapped. The next instant – he collapsed fully to the ground, dead.

Artalise gulped and ran to him, though the closer she got to the boy the slower her pace became as she grew more and more horrified with what she saw. With a hand clamped over a gaping mouth she knelt beside the crumpled body, looking in horror at the corrupted, decaying flesh. Slashed wounds across his chest were festering from lack of treatment – the smell of it was nearly enough to knock her out. But even more disturbing was the transformation she could see start to happen – patchy clumps of hair on the skull, nails that looked more like claws. Instead youthful plumpness, the cheeks were sunken in – in fact the creature's head looked more like a skull than a young man's head.

"You – have not seen this before, Artalise?" came Morrigan's voice from behind her. She stood several feet away from Artalise – and more importantly, the corrupted boy.

Artalise turned and looked up at the older woman and shook her head, "Wha-what causes this?"

Morrigan took a moment to think about her answer, "The darkspawn. 'Tis the taint."

Artalise bit her lip and shook her head again as she looked back at the decaying creature, "But _I _have the taint flowing through my veins as well! Yet I don't look like thi-this…thing!" There was a note of desperation in her voice – _Am I looking at my future?_

"'Tis as I said before. The boy has the taint – but 'tis uncontrolled. _Yours_ is controlled by whatever ritual your Order discovered ages ago."

Artalise took in a deep breath and got up, about to walk away before she felt Morrigan's hand on her arm, "Burn him," was all the other woman told her, piercing amber eyes gazing into her own green ones.

Artalise tilted her head to the side and looked at Morrigan, "Why?"

Morrigan glanced off towards the woods behind them, before looking back at Artalise, "Burn the body. And then I will show you why."

* * *

~~~V~A~V~~~

* * *

Morrigan led Artalise, alone – as she had demanded that the others stay near the ox and wagon, to the small village as if she had always known its location. Once they got closer to it, Artalise realized how Morrigan must have known where it was – the scent of death and putrescence greeted them long before the sight of the abandoned village did. There were only about five small cabins located near a wide opening in the forest that must have taken years to clear out. The wheat that had been growing in the field was brown and withered if not outward rotting. Like the entire village seemed to be.

Death permeated, saturated this village. Decaying remains of men and darkspawn alike littered the grounds. Morrigan stopped at the very edge of the village – where the grass was still green, and waved Artalise on, "I can go no further. Look, and see what the Blight does to the land. 'Twill be good for you to see what you fight for."

It reminded her of Ostagar – but this time she had full use of her senses. Most unfortunately she now had her sense of smell, which wrinkled up at the stench of corruption similar to what emanated from the ghoul of a boy – but this time much stronger. Her eyes were drawn to the black tendrils of organic matter threading out from the corpses of the slain spawn, the ground beside it brown and withered. Some of the nearby trees had black coils spiraling upwards to their now dead branches. Death was everywhere. She took a step forward, but when Morrigan stayed still, she turned and looked over at Morrigan nervously, "Why do you not proceed as well?"

"'Tis not I who has the protection of the taint. I shall not risk getting infected by it."

Artalise pursed her lips, part of her tempted to explore the village further, perhaps to answer some questions about what had occurred here, but in the end she decided to stay by the other woman's side. Protection or no, sometimes ignorance was bliss, "How did the boy…become like he was."

Morrigan scanned the village until her eyes alighted on a splayed out fetid form of a human man, the cause of his death evident in the numerous slashes across his body, "Look closely at the body. What do you see?"

Artalise narrowed her eyes as she focused on the body before her eyes suddenly widened and she let out a gasp of surprise, "Di-did the boy eat…him?"

Morrigan nodded curtly and then pointed her staff at the prone form of a genlock, "He started first on the humans, but as the taint maddened him from his chest wound, he ate the flesh of spawn as well. 'Tis what hastened his transformation," She glanced at Artalise before focusing back on the village, "You need to burn this all."

"I will…but why?"

"The beasts of the forest will eat the flesh of both human and spawn alike. It corrupts them just like it does humans. In fact, " she added as she peered into the forest depths behind her, "'Twill not surprise me if we are attacked by corrupted wolves or bears tonight. This village has been here too long."

Artalise gulped. She had had a tendency to burn the corpses of slain darkspawn before this. It had just become habit – though now she remembered it had been at Morrigan's insistence after their very first battle that they do so. Both herself and Alistair had complained about the smell of burning fetid flesh, but Morrigan had said nothing, instead just watching the flames make quick work of destroying the corruption held within the creatures. Why Morrigan had kept the reason behind it secret up until now was beyond her – but so were so many other things the woman did. _ She's such a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma!_

"I-I don't know if I have power enough to burn the entire village." Artalise stated as she looked at how far the corruption had spread.

"You have power enough, Artalise. If you feel yourself run low, however, I do have some lyrium potions," She hesitated, " I would aid you, but I need to ensure you do not burn the entire forest down." Morrigan smiled ever so slightly as she glanced down at the younger elf, "_That_ is how strong I think you are."

Artalise's eyes went wide with shock at the first compliment that she had ever heard Morrigan utter, before she flushed a little, feeling like she had the first time Enchanter Iona had nodded her head in approval at Artalise's spell. Seeing her reaction, Morrigan's smile soon faded away and turned into a look of impatience as she nodded her head towards the village, clearly wanting Artalise to get on with it.

So she did.

* * *

_A.N. My gracious thanks for the continued reviews of Arsinoe de Blassenville, jackkel dragon, and Gene Dark! _

_A.N. Umm...just in case it wasn't made too clear - the boy from the first part is the ghoul-boy in the last. Poor lil guy._


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